Broken Lies
by LoneWolfe2
Summary: This is the Hunger Games. This year, the arena is the worst one yet in the tributes eyes. The best one ever made in the Gamemakers sick, twisted minds. This is the tale of a tribute's rise to victory. Rated t for violence, duh. It's the Hunger Games. CURRENTLY PAUSED!
1. Calling all Tributes!

**Hey people! I'm doing a new Hunger Games story where YOU are the tributes. Message me your info and I'll add you. I'll update later as people are added. Thanks!**

**LoneWolfe2**

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><p><strong>~~Tribute Form~~<strong>

Name (First + Last):

Age:

District (please pick at least 2 just in case you don't get picked for your first choice):

Appearance:

Personality:

Reap or Volunteer?:

Why did you volunteer? (if you picked that):

Family?:

Goodbyes?:

Token:

Specialties (Archery, swords, strength, ect.):

Romance (do you have one at home or do you want one in the game):

Mentor name and how she/he trains you:

Interview strategy:

Alliance?:

Costume for opening and Interviews:

What was his/her life like before the Games?:


	2. Tributes Accepted

**WHOO! District 10 guy has been reaped!**

**I'm working on District 1 right now and have District 4 partially written. I know. Out of order but I'll publish them in order.**

**Also, after people PMing me, I've decided I'll keep the arena secret for now. You'll learn what it is when the Games begin.**

**Thanks for all the tributes! I'll post District 1 tomorrow!**

**Join the 70th Annual Hunger Games!**

**May the odds...be ever in your favor.**

** -LoneWolfe2**

**_District 1:_**

Male: Jack Andermin

Female: Amathyst Jadette Golde

**_District 2:_**

Male: Caden Dominik

Female: Macelina 'Macy' Valentine

**_District 3:_**

Male: Yuni Flewsel

Female: Elixir 'Lix' Yewde

**_District 4:_**

Male: Jacob Maheli

Female: Francis Beale

**District 5:**

Male: Victor Scott

Female: Johanna Gaylones

**_District 6:_**

Male: Castor Windwhitstle

Female: Crio Lit

**_District 7:_**

Male: Andrew Boksons

Female: Lashive *pronounced Lashiva* Robinson

**_District 8:_**

Male: Jammier Hamilton

Female: Sutton Marie Cardeano

**_District 9:_**

Male: Ari Catflex

Female: Melody Parker (Mel)

**_District 10:_**

Male: Hunter Neverlost

Female: Mei Flower

**_District 11:_**

Male: Lance Arrow

Female: Kiy Everbloom

**_District 12:_**

Male: Aubrey Brown

Female: Autumn Flyrose


	3. Reaping: District 1

**Hey guys! Sorry I didn't publish this a few days ago. I got caught up with the school play ( i work backstage) and the new Black Veil Brides album (obsessed!)**

**So here it is! And also, I'm changing the title to "Broken Lies". **

** - LoneWolfe2 **

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><p><strong>District 1: Reaping<strong>

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><p>The sun glinted brightly off of glass windows. People shaded their eyes as they darted around the square, eager squeals and bets floating around. There were hundreds of thousands of surgically modified people flocking to the center of town to watch one event. The Reaping. Which decided the fate of two citizens.<p>

A boy with slicked back blonde hair and ebony eyes like black holes stood out against the crowd. He didn't wear a bright lime green shirt or crazy headpieces. He wore a simple black leather jacket and pants. He stood among the other 14 year old boys, who were excitedly exchanging money for bets on who was going to be reaped, volunteer, even die first in the arena. He turned to a circle of boys next to him, threw a wad of money into the pile for a boy in his class, and said, "I'm in".

"Four hundred?" his friend, Keyton, gasped.

Jack, the blonde boy, nodded. "I bet it'll be Jason. His name is entered a lot."

"Alrighty," Keyton said, shrugging. He turned and waved the money in the air. "LAST MINUTE BETS FOR BOYS!"

Across the town center, a girl was clinging desperately to a boy, begging him not to leave. "TEAL, DON'T GO! DON'T LEAVE ME!"

The boy frantically tried to shake her off. "I have to Amathyst!" He managed to yank his arm free and speed off into the crowd before she could start crying.

The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, with deep blue eyes literally shining with diamonds. Her parents had diamond and silver shards implanted in their daughter's eyes. Real gold highlights were almost blinding to look at in the bright sunlight. She wore an almost see through red dress, which hugged her body and showed off her perfect curves. Her father, the mayor of District 1, had had his daughter genetically perfected.

"Fine then. I'll still have Avery Dive," she fumed angrily. "Oh, Avery!"

This girl was the perfect example of a daddy's little girl gone bad. She wore short, skin revealing clothes and smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth everywhere she went. Most people hated her, but because of her father...no one ever said anything against her.

"Avery! Avery, baby! Where are you?" Amethyst's voice was high and shrill.

"Amathyst, I'm right here. No need to shout like that."

A boy with long black hair wound his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. She leaned against him, smirking to a bunch of girl's angrily glaring at her. _Their just jealous I'm dating the most popular boy_ _in school_, she thought, and then stuck out her tongue childishly. _He's not even that great. It's just his looks. I'm going to dump him. And that whining little idiot Teal._

When the boys were done placing their bets and the girls had fixed their make-up, the bell rung, signaling the reaping.

A woman with bright purple hair and eyes mounted the stage, giggling as one of the past victors whistled. "Good afternoon, District 1!"

Cheers erupted. It was considered an honor to be reaped in District 1. The woman, Kat, giggled again, forcing her large, purple lips to part. "Today, the 70th Hunger Games Reaping will take place! Two tributes will be selected to battle for honor! The winner's district will receive a year's worth of prizes!"

Again, roars erupted. But it wasn't like 1 needed the prize. They were already heck of a lot richer than other districts.

"Ladies first!"

The purple woman flitted across the stage and stuck her hand in the girls' glass ball. Her fingernails like claws, she snatched up a name and scrambled back to the microphone as the crowd started talking.

"Jane King."

It went completely silent. Jane King was known in District 1 for refusing to have any surgical work done on her. She was exiled in school for it. Jack glanced up from the ground.

"Her? Oh, well."

Amathyst's lip curled up. "Her?" She ripped away from Avery and ran forward. "I volunteer! I volunteer for tribute!"

Gasps erupted, but were quickly replaced with cheers. Like earlier, it was considered an honor to be tribute. Amathyst happily skipped up the steps to the stage and stood next to Kat, proudly proclaiming her name. She clearly wasn't all there in her head. She clearly had...many issues.

"What's your name, Goldie?" Kat asked, secretly admiring Amathyst's real gold highlights.

"Amathyst Jadette Golde, Kat. I'm 17 years old and ready for battle!"

Kat stared at Amathyst's strange facial expression, which was pursing her lips and holding her fist in the air. Then she slowly turned away to the crowd again. "O...kay? Well, cheers for our female tribute. Now we'll move on to the boys!"

Jack narrowed his eyes at the high-pitched and whiny tone of the purple woman. "I hate people like that," Jack said to his friend.

"Alrighty, now!" Kat claw-like hand plunged into the blue tinted glass ball and snatched a piece of paper. "Jack Andermin!"

Jack's black eyes widened. "Me?"

Boys around him slapped his back and bumped fists, shouting "congratulations!" to him. He ignored them as he slowly made his way up to the stage. He glanced over his shoulder to see his father beaming at him. They looked exactly the same. With personalities to match.

Jack stood next to the oblivious Amathyst. She just wanted to be more popular. She waved and smiled and blew kisses while Jack just glared at the crowd. Hundreds of thousands of people were cheering for their deaths.

"Jack Andermin. 14 years old." He said clearly. "And she needs help," He muttered quietly, but everyone laughed.

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><p><strong>AMATYST POV<strong>

I sat down on a comfy chair in the good-bye room. I was waiting for my family and friends to say good-bye. They would probably cry and tell me to come home, but I know that I'll come back and be here. I am the mayor's daughter after all. No one bothers me and I doubt that anyone will hurt me in the arena.

The heavy, wood double doors opened and my mother ran forward. "Amathyst, I'm so proud of you! Volunteering for a simple stupid child! You'll be praised and honored for your kindness when you return!"

I gave her a quick hug and looked at her. My mother was beautiful, and I was a spitting image of her. She was tall, blonde, and skinny. Her eyes shone with tears of joy, not terror of losing her only daughter.

"Yes, Amathyst. I expect you to do well and win in these Games."

I looked up to see Father, who clapped a hand onto my shoulder. He had blonde hair as well that was permanently styled to be spiked. Even I had to admit Father wasn't the best looking man I've ever seen, but he was Dad. I didn't even know how Mother fell in love with a man twenty years older and much uglier. I suspect it was the money and power, but they seemed to like each other enough to stand it.

"I will win the games, Daddy. Just you watch!" I squealed with happiness. I was so excited to go into the games!

Suddenly, Father grabbed my arm and pulled me away from my mother. He knelt in front of me and snatched my hand. I tried to rip away, protesting, but he had a firm grip. He slid a ring onto my finger. When he released my hand, I quickly slid it off my finger and inspected it. It had a small amethyst carved into the gold band. But I felt a small prick in my finger. Curiously, I sucked on my finger and looked at the gem. A drop of my blood was on the sharp point of it, but the gem split open, revealing a needle. I was about to poke it when my father shook his head vigorously and grabbed my arm yet again. Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he wrote down a note and handed it to me.

_Amathyst, that need__le is poisonous. Don't touch it. It's designed to get through all inspections at the Capital. They won't take it away, so when you're in battle let the gem prick your finger. It will only work for you now. Then hit the opponent. They will be dead in less than I minute. This will be your Token in the Games. _

I smiled and nodded, slipping the note into my pocket. Daddy always takes care of me.

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><p><strong>Jack POV<strong>

I glanced around the room. It was not nearly as fancy as my mother's taste in furniture. Ugh, she's getting to my head.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, only to open them when I heard the door open. Mother quickly hurried into the room, her high heels clicking against the tile loudly. I pushed myself odd the couch and rolled my eyes as she grabbed me into a tight hug. As she was covering me in kisses, making me promise to come home, Father stood awkwardly a few feet away. When Mother let me go, I ripped away and stood in front of Father.

He beamed with pride. "My son in the Hunger Games. I've never seen a prouder day."

Then he bent towards my ear and started whispering. I didn't understand what he was saying at first, but then I caught on. He was telling me strategies. Strategies on how to win.

I glanced up to see Mother crying quietly, but with a slight smile on her puffed up red lips. "I agree with your father, Jack. What are you planning on taking as your token?"

I slowly and carefully pulled on a chain around my neck. A small, clear glass vial contained a little shard of smudged mirror. I could see the blurry reflection of my dark eyes as I held it up to my face. "This."

Mother and Father shared a look. "A-Are you sure you want that, Jack?" she asked. I nodded and her nose scrunched up. "I don't even know why you are so attached to that."

_In fact, no one knows_, I thought.

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><p><strong>READ &amp; REVIEW!<strong>


	4. Reaping: District 2

**Hey guys! So sorry for the long wait. Major writer's block combined with a busy schedule doesn't help.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my best friend who shall remain nameless, for helping me so much with this chapter! Love ya!**

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><p>District 2: Reaping<p>

A girl with strawberry blonde hair and glowing sky blue eyes stood alone in the crowd of chattering seventeen year old girls. Her eyes had a haunted, dreamy look about them as she stared into space. Girls pushed past her, eager to get as close to the stage where Kat, a purple-wigged woman, was standing, launching her hand into the glass ball. The girl glanced up at the last second, when Kat's lips opened to reveal the tribute for District 2.

"Macelina Valentine! Congratulations!"

Her eyes seemed to flash, and she was gone. Lost in a blank world called her mind. Practically all her memories were locked in a little closet back there. She was shoved forward by a girl and proceeded to walk to the stage a blank expression on her face. She stepped onto the stage, without even the slightest idea of what she was would be dragged into. The strangest part was the small plant she was holding in her hand. There was a small pile of dirt in the palm of her hands, holding the roots down.

Kat watched her with a strange expression on her face before moving onto the boys. "A-Alright, then. Let's move onto the male tribute." The crowd baited breath as her hand dug into the clear glass bowl and picked out a single slip of paper.

"Caden Diminik!"

A handsome boy of sixteen stood up in the crowd-no, towered, over the crowd, in a confident fashion. He made his way to the stage with a calm stride and flashed the crowd a charming smile.

The boy was a monster height-wise, standing at six feet, four inches tall and made of pure muscle. He had bright blue eyes and light, long, soft looking blonde hair. His skin was a smooth, tannish completion, with only a few scars here and there. Two dimples appeared as he happily smiled at the crowd. His clothes were expensive silk, the finest he could find in the district. Because he too, like the District 1 tribute, had a father who was the mayor.

Macy glanced over at him, her hair falling to cover half her face. One hand was rubbing her arm, like she was cold. She stared with her wide blue eyes and pointed at him. "Happy to die."

He froze and the blinding smile abruptly slipped off his face. "Excuse me?"

Macy turned towards him fully. "Happy to die. Happy to die. Happy to die!" Her shaky voice rose in pitch until she was screaming like a banshee, her hands reaching towards him.

Even though Caden had a good foot on her, he still backed up a little. "You're obviously delusional. Back off!"

Like a machine, she shut down. Her eyes shrunk and her hands fell to her sides. The tired look on her face disappeared and was replaced by a delighted smile. "Hi! I'm Macy!"

The crowd was silent. Everyone knew that little Macy was nearly insane. She invented a new personality practically every day, with facial expressions and vocabulary combined. Yesterday, she had been the quiet type. And the day before, she had been the complete opposite. And then the day before that...

Kat quickly intervened, waving over the Peacemakers. "Alright, our two tributes for District 2! Let's give them a round of applause!"

A huge outbreak of clapping ended the reaping in District 2.

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><p><strong>Macy POV:<strong>

I sat on the couch in the middle of the posh room. "I was picked in the reaping today, Daddy," I said to him. He smiled at me from across the room, where his am was slung over Mom's shoulders.

"You'll win for sure, baby," Dad said, reaching out and ruffling my hair. I smiled. "I'm so proud of you."

Mom walked forward and sat down next to me, winding an arm around my shoulders. I leaned against her, but slumped down on the cushions. I jolted back up and looked around. Mom and Dad had disappeared. Then I noticed a cat in my lap. I recognized it as a cat that ran around my neighborhood. I stroked its soft, fine orange fur. It relaxed me. If Daddy said that I would win, I would win.

"Thanks Daddy!" I whispered loudly.

The large, double doors opened and a Peacemaker in full uniform peeked in. "Macelina Valentine, it's time to go."

"Alright. Just let me say goodbye to the cat."

The Peacemaker stared at me. I could feel that my eyes were wide as I looked back down at my lap and stroked its fur again.

"Is there a problem, officer?"

"N-No, not at all. But there's no cat in your lap. You're petting a pillow."

"No I'm not!"

"O-O-kay. May I ask, but who were you talking the whole time? No one came to visit."

I could see pity on his eyes. But I didn't understand why. My lips pulled thin and tight. "My parents came! They told me I would win the games!"

The Peacemaker backed up. "I'm going to show you to the train. Come with me."

I nodded and smiled. Standing up, I saw a pillow fall off my lap and onto the floor. "Huh, where'd the cat go?"

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><p><strong>Caden POV:<strong>

This room is nothing compared to Mother's designs, I thought as I walked around the room. The doors opened and my family poured in, already shouting praise. Mom caught me in a bear hug, squeezing me as tight as she could. For a small woman, she had some upper body strength.

"I'm so proud of you, Caden!" Mom squealed.

I managed to get her to release me and I went over to my father, James, who clapped he hard on the back. "Good job son. Make sure you get those District 4 guys."

I nodded. District 4 was the main target now. They had killed my brother three years ago, in the 67th Hunger Games. I wanted revenge for the death of my brother.

My other brother was the one stationed at the door outside. He was a Peacekeeper and he wasn't allowed to come into the room, only when it was time to leave.

"Do you have your token, Caden?" Mother asked, holding her hand towards me. I reached out to her and nodded. Her hand clasped around mine as I held the small carving of an eagle up. It was hanging on a thin metal chain around my neck. It had been my brother's token when he was a tribute. Now it was mine.

Several minutes later, my brother peeked into the room, his eyes looking a little damp. "It's time to go. Please say goodbye."

I hugged my parents then left the room. "See ya after the games," I said to my brother as I was led away.


	5. Reaping: District 3

**Another chapter! I'm officially out of my extreme writer's block thanks to my nameless friend who also helped me with this chapter a little bit. I've had District 4 reaping started for a while now because it was the first District to be filled, and that should be up later today.**

**Review shoutouts:**

**Rachina: Yeah, poor, insane Macy. And Caden is supposed to scare you! He's that big jock of a bully at every high school.**

**TheTrackerJacker: Macy's hit her head a bit too hard!**

**Petemidnight13: Thanks for the compliment! Made my day!**

**ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo: Again, compliments make my day! And have I ever said how much I love ****your name?**

** - LoneWolf2**

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><p><strong>District 3:<strong>

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><p>"Hand me the wrench."<p>

A girl with black hair and golden eyes held her hand expectantly to a skinny boy no more than twelve without looking in his direction. She pulled her hair behind her ears to prevent it from falling in front of her face. Her hair was slanted, so it was shoulder length on the left and ended down to her hips on the right. She was slender and fit, with long legs, olive skin and perfect features. She pursed her cupid arrow lips as she stared down at the complicated piece of circuitry.

The boy dug through a rusted toolbox and slapped a piece of cold metal in her hand. She glanced down and nodded approvingly. Reaching back into the device, she said, "Tino, connect those two wires."

"Lix, are you sure Dad won't kill us?" Tino shivered at the thought of his father.

Lix closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No. He won't hurt you. I won't let him."

It was quiet for a few minutes as they worked together on the device. Tino stood up from the ground and shook dirt off his hands. They were hidden under a group of apple trees at the side of their huge house. Lix looked up. "It's time already?"

Tino nodded absent mindedly. "Don't go, okay? I want us to both stay here."

Lix stood up and stared down at her brother, hard. "_No one_ is going into the arena."

He gulped. "I know. I just want to blow this up." He stared at the ground with longing gold eyes.

"Yeah, the bomb will be blown up this year."

They did this last year and hopefully every year until they both reached the age of eighteen, the year they no longer qualified for the Hunger Games. It was a stink bomb, and last year that had set it off at school in the girl's restroom. It was well built and they didn't leave any evidence behind, so they were never caught.

Across District 3, a boy that was just shy of eighteen grumbled in anger. He had been so close to skipping the reaping this year. He had long, jet black hair and aqua eyes. His tan and he was skinny, but muscular for his age. But the thing was, he was ridiculously short. He stood 5ft 3inches tall, where as the boys at school seemed to tower over him. Right now, he was talking to a few of his friends. They were called the "Outcasts".

"Man, just short this year," one friend said, punching the boy's shoulder playfully.

"Next year, Yuni, we'll all be free from the reaping."

Yuni glanced up at his two closest friends. They were taller, but they didn't mock his height. "At least we're in a huge district. What are the odds of one of us being reaped if our names are only entered what they're required. We don't need tesserae."

"Yeah," his friend with blonde hair answered.

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><p>The streets and center of District 3 were overflowing with the amount of kids under the age of eighteen. Everyone was excitedly chattering about the huge dinners filled with the finest cuisine they were all guaranteed to feast on after the reaping. Except for two tributes, everyone there would be happy later that day.<p>

Again, the purple woman Kat stood on stage talking with the mayor of 3 and turned around just as the bell tolling noon rung. "Hello and welcome to the District 3 reaping of the Hunger Games!"

The crowd cheered, bringing on a sense of excitement for a sure execution that was bound to happen. Then it went silent as her hand went into the girl's glass ball. "Ladies first." She hopped back to the microphone on her four inch high heels. "Kate Counterclock!"

A girl with blonde hair with blue streaks and gold eyes bounced onto the stage. She was skinny, but you could see the lines of well-built muscles under the sixteen year old girl's skin.

"And now the boys!" Kat plunged her hand into the boy's blue-ish glass bowl and shouted, "Tino Yewde!"

Everything and everyone froze as they watched the small twelve year old boy make his way to the stage. His sister, Elixir, watched with wide eyes, then began to thrash around to make her way to the stage. As she climbed the steps, Peacekeepers tried to drag the frantic 13 year old down and tie her hands, but she broke free and ran up to Kat. "I volunteer for girl's tribute! Please! I know I'm late, but please!" she begged.

Kat looked her up and down, inspecting her expensive looking dress of golden silk. "What's your name?"

"My name is Elixir Yewde. Pronounced 'yood'. 13 years old."

"Very well. Take your place." She waved her manicured hand towards Kate Counterclock, who angrily stomped down the stage back into the crowd. Elixir ran forward and wrapped her arms around her brother, rubbed small circles on his back, and muttered to him that everything would be okay.

"I volunteer for tribute!"

The loud, deep powerful voice made everything quiet again. Kat rolled her eyes, thinking that this year, there were many volunteers, but it all made for a better show. "State your name and age," Kat said rather boringly as the boy stood on the stage. She leaned over the mic stand to look down at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yuni Flewsel. Age 17."

The Peacekeepers pried Tino from Elixir's arms and dragged him back down into the crowd, where his mother wrapped him in a hug. He glared at his father, who had actually stayed sober enough today to make sense of what was happening. "Glad to see you again, Father," he spat with disgust.

"Yuni?" Elixir gasped as he stood next to her. He didn't answer her, just stood quietly and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Finally, he answered, "I wanted to save your brother."

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><p><em><strong>Elixir Yewde POV<strong>_

My God, what have I just done? Tino wasn't a tribute anymore and here I was, trapped in this room full of plush furniture that I refused to touch. I had banged on the door for a few minutes when I had first been brought here, screaming for Tino, but shut up when the guard screamed at me. So now I was curled in the corner, shaking with tears that I refused to let fall. I didn't want them to be red when I boarded the train.

"Lix!"

I jerked my head up in time to see Tino tackle me in a hug. I immediately flung my arms up and squeezed him against me. Yuni had saved him. I must be grateful.

That's when I spotted my father and mother standing ten feet apart, Mother moving towards me. I just gazed at her semi-kindly and shot daggers at my father's neck. I could see he didn't lay off the liquor, but his eyes weren't puffed and fully red, so I knew he had drunk less. Still clutching Tino close, I stood up on shaky legs.

"You cared enough to say goodbye?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm and hatred. I truly wanted to love my father, but how could I love the man that gave me life, then tried to beat it out of me?

"Your mother made me, you maggot."

I felt Tino clutch my shoulder tighter. "You're the maggot. Nothing more than I drunk stain on life. Go away."

"Why you little—"

"Guards! My father's beating me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, making sure my voice shook. I pulled the shoulder strap of my dress down so it hung loosely off my shoulder, exposing scratch marks he had given me this morning. My father was abusive and my mother didn't do anything to stop it. Tears sprung to my eyes as my father was led away from the room in handcuffs.

"You should be safe now. He's going to jail for beating a tribute. And because I said that, they'll treat me for my bruises and scars in the Capital."

I kept my arms around my brother and turned my back on my mother. "It's alright, Tino. I want you to set that stink bomb off in the middle of the crowd out there. There's so many kids that you won't get caught. I'll come back. I promise."

I knew that I probably couldn't keep that promise, but I said that to calm him and myself down.

Tino shifted so he was sitting on the floor and dragged me down next to him. "Use this as your token."

He grabbed my hand and slid a ring made of black wire onto my middle finger. I held my hand up and saw a small, plastic, star-shaped bead in the middle, acting as a gem. I sniffed and hugged him until the guards came to take me away.

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><p><em><strong>Yuni Flewsel POV<strong>_

When I was looking at the paintings on the wall, thinking about my future, Mom and Dad came running in, Mom crying.

Seeing her cry made my eyes water and I squeezed them shut to hide it while Mom wrapped her skinny arms around me. "Come back to us! You have to come back!"

Dad came over and slapped a hand down onto my shoulder. "I'm proud of you for saving that little boy, Yuni. Come home safe."

We talked battle strategies for the next few minutes because Dad was good at observing things. He also said that this year, the arena was going to get even more difficult and blood-thirsty. He said that for the last two years, the tributes haven't given that much towards the arena in terms of entertainment, so the Gamemaker were going to go all out this year.

I felt someone grab my hand and place something heavy in my palm, then wrap my fingers around it. I raised my hand to see my father beaming at me. I was now holding a small, gold hammer. I treid giving it back, claiming that the Gamemakers world just tak it away for being used as a weapon, but he pushed my shoulders back.

"It's small enough to go through inspection. Take it. I know what tributes can and can't bring into the arena. You can."

Next my friends came in, Ari and Garrett. They hugged me once and sat on the couch, a hand on my shaking shoulders.

"Man, you're brave for volunteering. Only three more days and you would have been free," Ari said quietly.

"Ari, he saved that kid's life! Don't say that!" Garrett whispered harshly.

I just kept my eyes closed. What have I done?

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><p><strong>Read &amp; Review! Its that little button down there. Yeah, if you click it, you get a cookie from the dark side. They're so delicious because the mind control syrum tastes like chocolate.<strong>


	6. Reaping: District 4

**Two chapters in one day. Phew, I'm on a roll. I want to have all the reapings done and over with, and I'm only on District 5. Ugh. Anyway, read and review!**

** - LoneWolf2**

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><p>Everyone stared as Kat's hand plunged into the girl's tribute glass ball. Her now blue manicured fingernails grabbed a slip of paper like a claw. That slip of paper held the tribute's name. It sealed the tribute's fate.<p>

She raced back to the podium before anyone could even blink. She paused for dramatic effect, which a girl standing in the 14-year-old group rolled her eyes at. She had long, chocolate brown hair and eyes to match. Her tanned skin caused by hunching over a barrel of fish everyday matched everyone around her. She wore a lopsided frown, which would turn into a lopsided smile when she was happy. Her long arms and legs were muscular, but thin.

She slowly turned and saw her mother and father, whose hands clasped together tightly. Her father, a strong fisherman, had callused hands, while her mother's were warm and smooth. She worked in the market. You could tell they were forcing back tears.

Her brother stood with the boys' 13 year old group. He was staring at her. "You'll be okay." He mouthed. She nodded cautiously.

At the same time, a boy with a thick mass of curly, red-gold hair was whispering to a few friends, and they laughed. People shot him dirty looks. How could he be acting like this when a girl's fate was about to be decided?

His blue-green eyes that were lined with blonde eyelashes scanned the crowd. District 4 was a large district, so there were many children. They had children standing in separate streets and some even practically stacked on top of each other so they would all be easily accessible for Peacekeepers.

What were the odds that those two children's names were in Effie Trinket's claws? They were so slim it was close to impossible. There were thousands of children in District 4. What were the odds?

Kat parted her lips, the crowd went totally silent, and the girl had just had enough time to glance back at her parents when Kat's squealish voice called out, "Ceeara King!"

Both froze. Ceeara King moved away from the brown eyes girl's side, her hand slipping from her's, her brown hair flowing behind her as she let loose a sob. Everyone watched her as she walked up the stairs and stood on the platform, her hands clasped behind her back. A childish but a totally Ceeara gesture. She wasn't strong. She threw a fit when she received a bad grade in school. She wouldn't last a second in the arena.

That's what snapped the boy out of it. That thought. That she wouldn't last a second. He ran forward, shoving people aside, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I VOLUNTEER!"

Gasps and confusion whipped through the crowd as he stumbled onto the stage, grabbing Ceeara's hands. Her dark brown hair whipped around in the sea breeze. Her wide blue eyes stared at him with surprise and horror. Her pink lips were quivering and her cheeks were streaming with tears. She was beautiful.

"You can't, Jacob! Boys can't volunteer for girls!" she frantically screamed. Boy, were they giving the audience a show.

"I don't care, Ceeara! I'll find a way!"

He couldn't let her enter the arena. She was skinny, fragile even. He had to find a way to get her out of this horrible situation.

That's when a great plan formed in his mind. "I volunteer for the male tribute. You won't have to draw a name. Just pull out another girl's name. Anyone but Ceeara. Please! My name is Jacob Maheli. Please?"

Kat jumped at his urgent tone, but shakily reached her hand in the girl's glass ball again. "I'm not sure if this is legal, but—"

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The tall, skinny girl with uneven brown hair and eyes fought her way to the stage, forcing people aside with strength that he knew could be an advantage in the arena. Wait, what was he thinking? He was sending another girl to her death. But if it means saving Ceeara...

She finally reached the stage, clapping her hands down on the sweet smelling wood, and hauled herself up. She went to Effie and clearly and loudly said her name. "Francis Beale. Age 14. I volunteer as tribute for District 4."

"Fran?" Jacob gasped. "Why?"

She turned to him, her worn out blue dress flowing around her knees. "I want to. I don't want to send another girl in the arena. I'll go."

A hoarse cry tore through the silent crowd as she said those words. It was her mother, who frantically tried to break down the barrier bar that was keeping her away from her daughter. She collapsed in a fit of tears, her eyes squeezed shut as she shut down inside. Soon, all you could hear was her frantic screaming as she was dragged away by Peacekeepers.

Kat sighed, defeated. "This year is full of volunteers."

Ceeara turned to Jacob, tears welling up in her own eyes. "Thank you, Jacob." Then she kissed him.

Francis looked away, feeling embarrassed as the two embraced. She knew Jacob, but not Ceeara. It was strange to see one of her friends suddenly kissing a girl. She glanced over at her brother. His eyes were wide, surprised. He just stood there, surrounded by boys issuing sighs of relief.

"At least it isn't you, Kyle," one friend said, clapping a hand down on his shoulder.

"That's my sister, you idiot!" He unexpectedly roared, launching forward, towards the stage. He shoved people aside, clawing his way to his sister. But his friends caught him and held him back. He would have been caught and taken away.

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><p><strong>Francis Beale POV<strong>

People expect that if you were locked in a room with expensive furniture when you're poor as dirt for you to jump with joy and go crazy in awe over everything. I was locked in a room like that and I was poor as dirt, but the only thing I was doing was standing three feet away from the double wooden doors, waiting for them to swing open and reveal my parents and my brother. I'm usually hyper as heck, but now it seemed like it took so much effort to just move my finger.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the door swung open and I was tackled by my brother. "Fran, why?" Kyle screamed in my ear.

"I don't know! I don't know," I sobbed into his shoulder. Even though I was older, he was larger and warm. I clung to him while Mom and Dad tried to hug us awkwardly.

"Baby, come here."

I turned and launched into my mom's loving arms. She and Dad surrounded me, squeezing into Francis sandwich. I didn't mind. But I knew this was probably the last time I would ever see them, so I couldn't care less.

After ten minutes, the guards had to pry me away from my family. I was screaming and crying for them to let me go, but they didn't until my family was gone and the doors were slammed shut, only to be swung open a few seconds later.

My best friends Bernice Fran and Tommy Pale rushed in and froze, panting. Their eyes darted around the room, then froze on me. We stared at each other. I could feel my dress hanging long enough to cover my knocking knees. Then we launched towards each other. I found myself with my arms arund their necks, their arms hugging me. I let the tears flow freely with them.

"Come back safe, alright?" I weakly nodded at Tommy's request. "You hear me?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll try my hardest!"

Bernice pushed Tommy aside. "Be nicer, Tom. What happens if it's you next year, huh?"

"Don't say that!" Tommy and I shouted at the same time.

"Sorry. Here. Take this as your token."

Bernice pulled her favorite ring off her middle finger and roughly grabbed my hand. It was a thin, gold band with a pair of pure white wings melted on. The wings had a small blue gem on the tips of them and had such detail that I epected to feel real feathers when I ran my thumb over them. "Thank you," I choked out. Then we embraced again. I couldn't lose my friends.

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><p><strong>Jacob Maheli POV<strong>

This was totally and completely unfair! They denied me the right to say goodbye to my family because of my little stunt. So right now, as I was being led away from the stage, I just saw the Peacekeepers slap Ceeara. Rage flared up in me and I launched forward, trying to push past Francis, who pushed me back. "Don't, Jake! You'll just get hurt!"

I stumbled back and through the curtains, I saw my older brother Luka jump up onto the stage and grab Ceeara, throwing her into the waiting arms of her father. Luka started talking to the Peacekeeper, who waved his sword and threatened to hurt him. Then he slapped Luka too.

Luka fell backwards from the force of the hit and spotted me. I managed to rip away from Francis and run out between the curtains, making sure I stayed hidden. "Tell Mom and Dad and Adam that I love them. I love you, Luka!"

Then a guard snatched me and led me onto the train. I was pushed into a room where there was a huge table surrounded by chairs. Now I just have to wait for Francis, I thought, sinking into a chair.


	7. Reaping: District 5

**Hello fellow people on Fanfiction. I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been busy and haven't been able to sit down and write a chapter without getting distracted or being interrupted. Hopefully you like this chapter *flashes hopeful grin* Anyway, R&R!**

**- LoneWolfe2**

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><p><strong>District 5: Reaping<strong>

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><p>"Little is known about District 5, but they are involved in DNA splicing and mutations. Mockingjays were created here by the Capitol during the first rebellion. Being one of the more middle class Districts, they live a life of comfort compared to the lower Districts of 10, 11, and 12. They are rumored to be working with the Capitol with mutation projects for the Hunger Games, but this has not been proven or unproven.<p>

"District 5 is a very populous district, with—"

The girl stopped reading and brushed her short, uneven brown hair over her shoulder. She glanced up at her older brother with warm, dark brown eyes. "How did you get this piece of garbage?"

"My run-in with the Peacekeepers. I grabbed it out of one's back pocket when they searched me."

"_This_ is what the other Districts think of us? _Traitors_?" The girl's voice was low, but was a harsh whisper. "I can't believe this! Yes, we're involved with animals. But how do they get animals are bred in District 5? Julio, can you explain?"

Her brother, Julio, rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "Wish I could, Johanna. I'm as confused as you are. But who knows. The mayor could have something to do with it."

"Julio, stop telling your sister these things," their mother said, snapping out a blanket.

Johanna blocked her nose as a wave of dust hit her. "I like learning about these kind of things, Mom."

Marianna sighed. "I know you do, baby," she said, sitting down next to her and pulling her into a hug. "Just...be careful about what you say. _They_ are always listening."

Johanna nodded slowly and carefully. The Capital was always listening. "Anyway, I have to get ready. I can't miss my first reaping, right Julio?"

"Yeah, it's important. But don't worry, Jo. Your name's in there twice. There's so many other people in 5, so there's a less than 1percent chance it's you."

Johanna looked up. "The Hunger Games have really started for me now."

In the next house over, a boy was sitting with his head bent down, staring at the old titled floor of the kitchen. A girl with long brown hair twisted into a braid and strange but beautiful gray eyes was sitting next to him, rubbing small circles on his back, mumbling soothing words.

"Dakota will be fine, Victor," she whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. "He'll be fine."

"You don't know that, Nina. He's twelve now, only for two weeks, and he's already facing his first reaping. This world is so unfair!"

Victor had short, grayish-brown hair and stunning hazel eyes that faded to a shade of silver on the outside. Freckles were splashed across his nose and under his eyes, and two large feet were covered with leather boots. But he was super skinny for his age.

"I know it is, but we have to deal with it. Let's just get through today, alright?"

He nodded. "Alright. Hey, is Grandma Izzy here, or did she already leave with Dakota and my cousin Nataliya?"

"I think they already left. Come on, Victor. Let's go. We're going to be late," Nina said, standing up and smoothing down the front of her dark blue dress.

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><p>Kat's face had become known as the "Messenger of Death" in District 5. Victor was secretly among the twelve year olds despite being 15, holding his shaking brother's hand while standing on his knees. Johanna hugged her family tightly before she was pushed into the crowded twelve year old group. Most of the twelve year olds were nervous, some crying and others just staring at nothing.<p>

"Welcome everyone of District 5 to the 70th Hunger Games reaping. Let's get right to it and pull the girl's name."

Kat's hand dove into the girl's bowl and picked up a slip of paper. Johanna stared at it. She wasn't used to this level of nervousness, the panic, the urge to scream like a banshee and charge the Capital. She felt it as a child, when she was behind the barrier, just watching the reaping, feeling nervousness for her brother. But now she was being forced to take part in this game straight from hell.

She could picture the relief she felt every year when her brother wasn't reaped, only multiplied by thousands, when her name isn't read .

After pausing for an agonizing dramatic effect, Kat finally called, "Johanna Gaylones! Congratulations!"

A slight squeak escaped her lips and her shaky hands raised to cup her cheeks. "Me?"

Johanna found her feet moving forward, people gasping and cheering with relief. The relief that she wished she could have felt.

Victor watched the twelve year old girl march towards the stage, tears forming in her wide brown eyes. He recognized her from the hallways at school. She was always with the same friends, always smiling, always laughing.

Dakota's hand tensed around his older brother's and he gasped. "There's a twelve year old. She's from my class. Jo."

Victor's eyes hardened as Kat's hand reached for the second tribute's name. "Dakota Scott!"

"No!"

Victor was ripped away from Dakota. Three other twelve year olds were pushing him towards the stage. Without giving it a second thought, Victor shot to his feet and bellowed, "I volunteer!"

"Come on up!" Kat answered a little too enthusiastically.

Victor stood up to full height, towering over the twelve year olds. He pried his brother's fingers off his hand and disappeared into the crowd before Dakota could even tell him to stay.

"What's your name?" Kat asked as Victor took his place next to Johanna, who was trying not to sob.

"Victor Scott. 15 years old."

"Oh, I assume that it was your brother that was reaped."

Victor nodded. The long speech was given and they were dragged away for their good-byes.

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><p><strong>Johanna POV<strong>

Julio had said that there was such a slim chance that I would be chosen. With my luck, the stupid reaping was probably rigged.

I looked around the room. Plush furniture that most people in Panem would probably never even see. Then I saw the framed portrait of Coriolanus Snow. I was tempted to grab the heavy vase of flowers and shatter the shiny glass protecting his cold eyes, but the door opened and my friends piled in.

Mikaela Tron, Cassidy Ramacka, and Giselle Gomet. A.K.A, my best friends. We've known each other for so long we had become like siblings. We stared at each other for a moment or two, the three standing close together, me four feet away, my head bent down but eyes looking up, my hands curled into fists.

"Jojo!" They all screamed and we all dog piled onto one another, crying and hugging like there was no tomorrow. Well, there could very well be no tomorrow. I could be dead as soon as I hit Capital property.

"Wow, I've never seen Jo cry before," whispered Cassidy.

I broke away from them. We had formed a circle, everyone's arms interlocked. "Look guys, I...I don't know if I could win or not, so...I just want to say that you guys are the best friends anyone could ever have. You've watched out for me, stuck up for me, comforted me. Thank you."

Quickly wiping away tears in the corners of my eyes, I lowered my arms. "Thank you so much!"

"No."

Surprised, I jerked my head up to see all three of them staring at me. Mikaela stared had. "Johanna Gaylones, you will try your hardest to come home. Promise us, Jo!"

"I...I promise."

A few minutes later, my family came in. Mom rushed straight over and grabbed me, pulling me harshly off of the couch. She whipped out a handkerchief and wiped my eyes. "Baby, it'll be okay!"

"Mom, I'm fine!" I gasped, wiggling away from her grasp.

"Oh, baby! My baby girl in the arena!" she sobbed. "This is just a dream! A crazy, horrid dream that I will wake up from and forget."

"Mother, knock it off! You're scaring her!"

I didn't realize it, but my lower lip had started trembling, so Julio had wrapped his arms around me. He kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair in a brotherly way. I swear, I have the best brother ever, just like my friends.

I felt something hit the bottom of the hidden pocket on my dress. I sniffed and glanced down to see the edge of a small flute poking out of the pocket. I reached down and curiously pulled it out. It was a small flute, and by the way the wood was carved, I could tell that it was my father's work.

Silently, I reached over and pulled a pale blue ribbon out of my mother's hair. She looked up at me with tired, red, puffy eyes. Without asking, she just let her head drop into her hands again.

I hung the small flute on the ribbon and let Father tie it around my neck. "Thank you."

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><p><strong>Victor POV:<strong>

I had to make it. I had to live through the Hunger Games. I had to survive.

I knotted my hands in my hair and paced back and forth across the plush carpet. This whole thing was so against the simple laws of humanity. How could anyone become so cold, so freaking heartless that they could laugh and enjoy the deaths of children?

I only stopped my pacing when the door creaked open and my fiends Niko and Ethan slowly and carefully walked over to me. It was like they were scared of me. Hell, I would be scared of me too if I were them.

"I did the right thing for Dakota, right?" I asked.

They shared a look, Niko's dark eyes meeting Ethan's light blue ones, before they turned back to me. "Yeah, Vic. Little Dakota's too young. You're a hero to him," Niko offered.

"Not if I come home in a sloppy wooden box."

"Victor, snap out of it! You have to be strong for him!" shouted Ethan. "Calm down before he gets in here."

"Okay. Well, take care of him and my family if I don't come back. Nina too."

After they left, my family came. Dakota was the first one through the door, plowing straight into me, wrapping skinny arms around my waist. I reached down and hugged him back. Grace, my seven-year-old sister, quickly joined in, crying her gray eyes out. Nataliya watched us from across the room with hollow dark eyes, leaning heavily against the double doors.

Grandma Izzy, grey haired and silver eyed, hobbled in soon after and started sobbing. "Victor, come back safe," she croaked.

I can't imagine how it must have been watching kids die year after year after year. I'm 15, and I remember 11 Hunger Games, since the time I was four. She's elderly, which was considered a huge feat in Panem.

"Come back safe," everyone echoed, making me choke on tears that I refused to let fall.

I held Grace and Dakota close and kissed both of their foreheads. "I'll come back. I promise."

Nina was next. She walked in slowly and instantly started to cry, gripping me close to her. I hugged her close.

"Victor, you absolutely have to come basck to me and your family."

"I know, Nina. I know." I leaned down and kissed her softly.

She gulped and unhooked a necklace from around her neck. I let her tie it around my neck and then I looked down at it. It was the necklace I had given her a while ago. It was a silver necklace, with black jewels forming a heart. The jewels were black because black is her favorite color.

"Take this as your token," she whispered, letting her shaky hands fall to my shoulders. "Just come back."

R&R! 


	8. Reaping: District 6

Hello! So two chapters updated in two days. And that's only because my best friend in the whole wide world wrote the whole chapter, except for the male reaping and some small editing I did here and there. She does have a completely different writing style then I do. I'm more focused on the seriousness and she has natural humor. (A.K.A. The Squirrel obsession is born!) She unfortunately doesn't have a FanFiction account where you can read her stuff, but she'll help out every once in a while when I get writer's block.

Yes, it is my unnamed squirrel obsessed friend that I mention in the beginning of my profile. And she left a little note for all your fanfic readers out there.

ENJOY!

** - LoneWolfe2**

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><p>A small, slim girl of four feet and nine inches ran around her pitifully house like a rabid squirrel <strong>(Yes, it is I, the nameless friend of the author who is NOT obsessed with "man eating" squirrels- WAIT DON'T TOUCH THA-)<strong> who ate far too many nuts. She had her slightly shorter-than-shoulder-length black hair in a ponytail, although it didn't hide the fact that it looked like she had cut her hair with a knife –which she did. It was only uneven at the ends, so she could care less. In addition to that, she had olive skin, with light scars adorning her hands as a result of years of using knives (No, she is not a crazed serial killer. How do you people come up with this stuff?).

The small girl struggled to keep her clear, pale green eyes open as she hurriedly got dressed, skipped breakfast, and ran out of her home.

"Stupid alarm clock," she murmured quietly, yet tiredly, as she tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes as she did every morning.

This action cost her, as she stumbled over a rather large twig. She would have kept running too, if it hadn't been for that second twig that she could've sworn wasn't there a second ago. Only four words really came to mind before she fell flat on her face.

_"I am so late."_

Meanwhile, somewhere not-so-far-away, a boy was happily chatting away with his slightly shorter but just as ecstatic friend. The boy had short, but not too short, curly blonde and sun tanned skin over a strong muscle build. Only a few people knew this, but he had a white scar running across his chest from a hunting accident a few years back. His light blue, almost silver-looking eyes shone with excitement.

His friend, had that same shine in his sea-green eyes. His straight, jet black hair was about the same length as his pal, only slightly longer. He was pale, with a muscular figure, but not quite as robust as the blonde.

They were having a similar conversation to the one that went on in District 6. The topic was who was being reaped, and who the bets should be placed on. Panem is a disturbing place to live, kids.

"John, I swear that neither of us will be reaped. We can't," the blonde boy said with a laid-back attitude.

"Caster, there's still that slim chance."

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><p>"Crio Lit!"<p>

By some miracle, the girl who previously face-planted into the dirt had made it on time for the reaping with a minute to spare, and had joined the twelve-year olds group, somehow managing to stand and sleep at the same time. In mere seconds, almost everyone sent a glare her way. Some proceeded to wake her up, careful to do it from a distance. After all, they learned the hard way when a teacher nearly passed out when he prodded her awake while standing in front of her desk.

Once she was half-awake, they roughly pushed her toward the stage. Crio, being the incredibly tired girl she was, passed out a few meters from a bewildered Kat.

Guards ended up dragging onto the stage, where they propped her up on the podium where Kat was because she wouldn't, and refused, to wake up.

Kat poked her with the tip of a purple manicured fingernail, but even in her sleep, Crio hissed. Kat jumped and moved right onto the boys.

"Castor Windwhitstle!"

Caster looked up from talking with his friend from before, Jonathan. He looked stunned. "What?"

"Caster, that's you."

John was stunned. Both boys never had to take any tesserae, so their names were only added the required amount of times for 18 year olds. But Caster was at an extreme disadvantage. He couldn't even kill the fly that was flying around the house last night, so how can he possibly kill kids years younger in cold blood?

Slowly and reluctantly, he stood awkwardly next to the sleeping Crio. Loose strands of hair would go flying when she breathed out, snoring slightly.

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><p><strong>Caster POV:<strong>

"CASTER! DON"T GO BIG BEROTHER!"

I whipped around only to be tackled by my three year old brother, Jayness. He was crying hard and holding onto my legs. I patted his blonde curls and looked up to see my mother standing in the doorway, dabbing her eyes with a cloth.

"Caster, you will come home, right?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'll try my hardest."

She nodded and held out her arms. I dragged Jayness, who was crying uncontrollably, over to Mom and hugged her close. I felt her skinny arms wrap around my shoulders. If I didn't come back, what would happen to the ones I love? I hunt for money and Mom works as a seamstress. She gets enough food, but I'm worried about Jayness. What'll happen to him?

"Caster, I want you to have this as your token."

She carefully put something in the palm of my hand. It was a little silver heart on a thin silver chain. I shook my head and tried to give it. "No, Dad gave it to you. I can't take it."

"No. Take it," she said finally, her voice strong despite the tears.

I nodded and sunk down to my knees. Jayness stared at me. I put a hand on his shoulder. "I love you Jay. Take good care of Momma, okay? You're the man of the house now."

He sniffed hard and nodded. "Bye-bye."

Jonathan came in next. He gave me a quick hug and stepped back, looking over me. I could tell what he was thinking. We both knew that there was no way I could kill anyone to get through the arena.

"Thanks for being a great friend," I said.

"You too, Caster. I'll be rooting for you."

I nodded. "Thanks."

We hugged again and went our separate ways. Me towards the guard, him down the hall towards the exit of the building. Then I was alone.

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><p><strong>Crio POV:<strong>

I sat on the couch in a room full of posh furniture, but I could care less. A few minutes prior, I had finally figured out that I had been reaped. So I smashed a flower vase. Thankfully, the guard must have been half deaf.

My thoughts wandered away to my older sister, Rion.

_Survive for as long as you can_, she'd tell her. _Be yourself until you die_.

Unlike the other tributes, I know she would die. I'm sure that in heaven, Rion was thinking the same thing. But I will and am staying myself. I silently swore on my life that I will, no matter how hard it would be in an arena full of tributes who could possible try to manipulate me. I have to.

I reached up and pulled out my grey hair band. My hair drifted down to brush my shoulders. My grey hair band. It has a tiny white stone in the shape of a crescent moon on it. It'll be my token.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R!<strong>


	9. Reaping: District 7

**Hello people of Fanfiction! I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in so long. I've been busy for a while and just lost inspiration. But I'm back! So...yeah.**

**Hurricane Irene tore the East Coast apart. I was honestly terrified of what would happen, seeing I was going to be hit by it extremely soon. So, please pray for everyone being affected by this horrible storm. I haven't had access for almost four days. I was planning on uploading it on Saturday, but the power was shut off. I HATE storms when they reach this level of intensity.**

**Again, Soooo sorry for the long wait!**

** - LoneWolfe2**

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><p>The sound of hand saws and calls of "TIMBER!" fill the cool air of District 7 from every morning until night. Tree after tree falls down, shrinking the once beautiful forests of 7.<p>

One boy wiped sweat from his forehead and stabbed a saw into the ground. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his dad working with a few other men to take down a large oak tree. Sighing, he pulled the saw out and walked over to his dad.

The boy was very muscular, as were the other men of the district. His nearly shaved head dripped with sweat and his deep blue eyes darted around to make sure there wasn't any harm in the way. A lumber haul could be dangerous.

"Dad, why are we working on the day of the reaping?" he asked, leaning heavily against a tree.

The older man in his late forties looked up at his son. "We get off soon, Andrew."

The boy stared at his father for a few moments, then went back to work. He didn't believe that they were being forced to work this morning, but a rumor was that they needed this wood to finish off the Arena. He was extremely stressed today. This was his final reaping, as he was 18. But for his younger siblings, it was just the start.

A girl with brown, blonde streaked hair and large, innocent looking hazel eyes stared out the smudged, greasy window. Dark freckles dotted her nose. She was skinny, but with biggish hips and almost no remaining toenails. Her fingertips drummed the window sill as she rolled her eyes. Her sisters were fighting again.

"Lahive! (pronounced 'Lashiva') Tell Tia that I did the laundry yesterday and that now it's her turn! You do have the best memory!"

Kayla put her hands on her hips while staring at her sister Tia, then the whole room grew quiet and they turned to Lahive. Chrysie and Jacob, the twelve year old twins, almost spoke simultaneously.

"Lahvie's usually crazy. Why's she all calm now?"

The girl at the window turned around on the metal stool she was sitting on. Her sisters and brother watched her carefully. "What's wrong?" they all echoed.

"I have a bad feeling about today."

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><p>Kat. The purple woman. She climbed the stage and smiled brightly at the crowd, masking the disgust she felt. She was from the Capital, and hated the living conditions even more as the Districts got poorer.<p>

"Good morning, District 7! How are we doing this fine day?"

It was completely silent.

"A-Anyway, let's go immediately to the girl's reaping!"

Lahive was standing in the 14 year old girl's crowd with her best friend Hillary. Hillary was slightly taller than Lahvie, with darker hair and golden eyes. They were holding hands and praying quietly that neither one of them would be reaped. But that bad feeling wouldn't leave either of them.

Andrew stood alone with the boys' crowd, silently waiting for the reaping to be done and over with. He wanted his whole family to be safe, and this to finally be the last reaping he would experience it for himself. He hated the Hunger Games with a fiery passion. He couldn't stand the thought of death or killing anyone. Just watching the Hunger Games was nauseating and nightmare inducing.

"Lahive Robinson! Come on up! Congratulations!"

Lahive froze, Hillary's hand tightened, and people started shoving her forward. The faster she got up on stage, the better for them.

"Hillary! I'll go. Don't volunteer! Your family needs you!" she screamed while walking forward. Their hands ripped apart. Sharp cries echoed through the silent crowd. It was all her sisters and brother starting to freak out.

"Hello, Lahive! How are you?"

She shot Kat a sour death glare. Kat shivered, thinking that the tributes this year were all psychos, insane, and blood-thirsty. "Let's move on the boys!" Her hand captured the slip of paper. "Andrew Boksons!"

"Crap!" Andrew exclaimed, his hands balling. He forced his way reluctantly to the stage and stood next to Lahvie, hoping for a volunteer. Everyone thinks that as they stand on the stage, but he was praying for one to show up. He couldn't stand the Hunger Games and everyone knew that.

But no one called out.

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><p><em><strong>Andrew POV<strong>_

Just my luck. I was reaped. I hate the Hunger Games, anything associated with them, and killing. The killing is what got me the worst.

I ran my callused hand over the fabric of the velvety couch. It seemed so weird, so out of place against my dirt encrusted skin. My muscles ached from work this morning. We should even be working today, we should be at home, preparing for the reaping.

The door creaked open and my family came in. Dad came in first, with two little girls' hands in his own. I had five siblings, three sisters, Mae (5), Anabelle (15), and Winter (7), and two brothers, Dyson (11) and Malachi (10). They all had dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They were all tall for their age and had long arms and legs. My mother died when Mae was born five years ago. She was murdered by Peacemakers for stealing baby food. Mae was only two weeks old.

"Big brother!" Mae and Winter screamed, charging me and hugging my legs. Anabelle stood back. She was always the quiet one.

"Hey guys," I said loudly so they would hear me. I glanced up at my father, who was holding my brothers back. I flung out my arms. They tore away and buried their tear streaked faces in my shirt. Anabelle finally joined our little family group hug. And we just stood like that for what seemed like seconds before the guard peeked in and told them it was time to leave.

Sighing, I knelt down and looked them all in the eyes. Anabelle stood behind me. She understood this better than any of them, because she was fifteen, so she knows what it felt like to have your name in the reaping bowl. Her and I were the only kids that have been up for tribute in the family. Two years ago, Anabelle had been reaped, but someone volunteered for her, and she died. But now we still had little Ana.

"Listen guys. I'll do anything and everything to come back home to you guys. I won't promise anything, because anything's possible, right?" They all nodded. "I'll miss you. All of you."

They all cried as Dad pushed them out of the room. He turned back to me after the Peacemakers crowed them against the wall. "Son, come home safe and alive. I don't want to have a wooden box."

"I...I'll try as hard as I can. I love you, Dad." I held out my hand.

He stared at me. "I...I l-love you too, Andrew." He shook my hand and clapped his hand onto my shoulder. Then he was gone.

Tearing angrily at my black shirt's collar, I slumped against the wall. How was I going to do this? Killing is out of the question, so maybe I could just avoid everyone until the end. Maybe if I'm lucky the last people would kill each other off and I won't have that blood on my hands.

"A-Andrew?"

I managed to look up when a small voice called my name. Daniella.

I've known her almost my whole life. We would pass each other in the hallway at school and share a smile. We've been friends for a couple of years. Not exactly close, but good friends.

Her dark chocolate hair was brushed behind her ear and over her right shoulder. What was strange though was her eyes. They were a wide, bright silver that no one else had in the district. She has freckles under her eyes and small dimples. As she stepped around the door, I could see she was wearing a pale yellow dress, with a white sash wrapped around her waist.

"Andrew," she whispered when she saw me.

"Daniella. Hi." She looked at me, towering over me. I was now sitting, my legs spread out in front of me.

"You look so short!" she giggled, making me smile brightly. Then the frown was back. "B-But you're...the tribute...Andrew, don't go," she cried out, dropping down next to me. She flung her arms around me and sobbed into my shoulder. Surprised, I wound my arms around her and hugged her.

"It'll be okay. I'll come back home."

"You better. Because...because I-I love you, Andrew."

I froze. She...loved me? As, like a friend or _love_ love? I found myself wondering as I put my hand of the back of her head. "I...I love you too."

"Here," she frantically tried to pull her bracelet off. "Use this as your token. Please."

Her bracelet was woven twine from a rope, dyed blue and black. She pulled on a loose string and grabbed my hand. She slid it onto my wrist and pulled the string again. It tightened until it couldn't slip off my hand.

"Alright," I whispered. "Thank you."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lahive POV<strong>_

The Hunger Games were cruel with killing in other people's eyes. I was completely unaffected by death. So this trait should help me in the Arena. I've asked myself many times if I was crazy, if I needed help or I was just mental.

My family and I live in the Community Home. My family's loving and caring, although we occasionally spar, we're still a family.

My parents died when I was very young, so I don't remember them very well. And the lack of photographs doesn't help either. I could remember blurry pictures of my Mom and Dad, but they were so distorted in my mind, that I just try to make out the shape of their eyes.

The creaking door grabbed my attention away from trying to claw the president's portrait. It was my friend, my best and one and only friend, Hilary.

We stared at each other, my brown gaze meeting her silver one. Her brown hair was chopped short and the jagged tips of her bangs just reached then edges of her cracked lips. She wore a dark maroon dress that made my pale white one look like a fourth generation hand-me-down.

"Lahive, why you?"

I just kept staring. "I had a bad feeling. We both felt it."

She nodded and sniffed, then jerked her head to the side. "They certainly live like kings here, huh?" her eyes roamed curiously over the room. I hadn't cared much for it. I doubt that any tributes do.

We finally hugged. I forced the tears back as her fingers dug harshly into my shoulders. She sobbed, "Lahive, you can't go! Then I'll be alone with no one and you'll be...d-de—"

"Hilary!" I snapped. She looked at me. "I'll try my hardest. I _promise_."

After spending a few minutes calming her down and assuring her I would try my hardest, she was forced to leave. But all those promises were empty practically. I was going to try my best, but there was no guarantee that I had a ig chance of winning. I just want to keep my family and friends safe. At all costs.

They split up my family into groups of two or three because they wouldn't allow so many people in one room. I was stupid and pointless, considering that we were already in the palms of their hands, stuck in their control. Like we could leave.

It was my younger siblings first. Twins Chrysie and Jacob. They piled in together, their hands clasped in each others' and tears streaming. Their tears made clean streaks down their dust encrusted faces.

"SISSY!" Chrysie screamed at the top of their lungs.

"Chrysie!" I answered, just as loudly. "Jacob!"

I loved my family. No matter what happened or who tried o break us, we couldn't be separated. They considered me the glue that held everyone together, because I handled all the arguments and settled them equally.

We hugged and I kissed the tops of their heads. I managed o tell them that I loved them and not to give up. And to pray to any celestial being greater than us out there.

Then my older sisters, the Fighters, as we called them, came in. Tia had lighter hair, brown hair with blonde streaks, and Kayla had black hair. They were complete opposites.

"Little sis. I'm so sorry! I would've volunteered, but I was just too shocked to move!" Kayla cried, wrapping me in her arms. I remained silent. She was telling the truth. Her eyes weren't lying.

I glanced up and saw Tia watching me. Her eyes were distant, almost like she was in a daze. I guess she was shocked too. As I pulled away from Kayla, she snapped out of it and stepped towards me, also giving a hug. It was her famous Death Hug, where she crushed you and you couldn't breathe.

That's when it hit me. This could be the last time I see my family.

"What's your token?"

I looked up at Kayla and then held up my hand. It was a little silver snake ring around my thumb. It had been Dad's.

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><p><strong><em>Read and Review!<em>**


	10. Please Read!

**This isn't a normal chapter, but please still take the time to read this. In less than 24 hours, the 10th anniversary of 9/11, September 11, 2001, is taking place. Four planes crashed, people died, and America was changed forever. I didn't know anyone who worked in New York and I'm very grateful that nothing happened to my family.**

** So, tomorrow, remember those who died and sacrificed their lives for the sake of others. They are true heroes. Everyone, please do the moments of silence. Thank you.**

** (I'm working on chapter 8 tonight! I don't know when I'll update, but I'm trying to work out a schedule.)**

** - LoneWolfe2**


	11. Reaping: District 8

**Ello, fellow Fanfiction-ers! Finally a new chapter. School's started and it's been stressful. I already had tests in all my subjects. I was ready to go into a corner and tear my hair out :P**

**I hope you like this chapter. I've been told that I write better in 3rd person POV, so if you agree with that statement, please review! Seeing those reviews in my inbox makes me smile, especially when they compliment me. But remember, I like criticism. It helps. A lot.**

**I'm trying to get a set schedule on writing, so right now, I only have weekends and free time, which is usually filled with reading for book reports and homework.**

** Sorry for the long waits!**

** - LoneWolfe2**

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><p>A girl with wavy light red hair was sitting outside the baker's door. She was wearing a slightly too small black dress that ended at her knees and frilled out after her waist. Her legs were tucked underneath her, with her sandaled feet cutting into her skin. She had pale skin that contrasted sharply with her one blue eye and her one green eye. Freckles spotted her nose and cheeks, and her willowy figure curved like an hourglass.<p>

Just as the red sun started to rise over the textile factories, the door creaked open behind her. The baker leaned out slightly, glancing up and down the street. The frozen wind blew a piece of blue fabric across the stones. That was it. All the people of District 8 were still sleeping, tucked into their warm beds stationed right next to their fires. District 8 was a frozen place.

The man's dark eyes drifted down to meet the strange eyes of the girl. "Sutton, what are you doing here this early?"

The girl, Sutton, shrugged, then a bout of hivers racked her body. The baker instantly crouched down and threw his jacket around her shoulders. "How long have you been out here, Sutton? You're insane!"

The baker was a kind man, with dark, warm chocolate eyes and short curls of blonde hair. He was only in his early twenties, with him and his wife awaiting their first child, due in a few months.

Sutton tugged the jacket tighter around her. "I figured that if I got here earlier, I would get the best pick of the fresh food."

His eyes softened. Silently, he stood up and swept his hand towards the open door. "I have a fire going. Warm up."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you. I have money this time."

He shook his head as she reached into a stitched pocket on her dress. "Keep it. I know you need it. You work hard enough in the healing house."

A small, grateful, smile took over her face again. But it flashed away as the baker asked, "How much tesserae did you take this year?"

She shifted on her feet, pulling on the frayed ends of the jacket's sleeves. Biting her chapped lower lip, she turned away slightly, towards the fire. The baker's wife, Anna, came into the room, a hand on her large stomach and a yawn on her face. Sutton's eyes flashed to Anna's stomach, then she answered, "Not enough."

But they both knew she had taken too much to launch her chances through the roof.

On the other side of District 8, in a small home warmed by a bright fire, a twelve year old boy was sitting on a ratty old couch. A man stood behind him, his large hands pressed firmly down on his son's shoulders, holding the squirming boy in place. He leaned down and whispered harshly in his ears, "Shut up and sit still!"

When the boy felt a hard slap, he instantly froze and sat ruler straight on the couch, forcing his eyes to watch the horror in front of him, on the old TV screen. It was a recording of the 50th Hunger Games.

"Dad," he managed to whisper, gathering all his strength. "Why me?"

"You are volunteering," the man continued, completely ignoring his son's remark. "You are volunteering and you are going to win the 70th hunger games. No matter what."

Almost like entering a trance, the boy's eyes faded in color and his lips curled into an evil grin. "No matter what."

His father copied his grin. "James, I couldn't ask for a better son."

"I'll make you proud, Dad."

The man released his son and backed off, reaching up for a sword cleverly disguised as a cane. He slid the thin blade out of the sheath and came up behind his son, who was frozen on the screen. When his boot made the floorboards creak, the boy spun around and launched off the bed, instantly grabbing the sharpest, most lethal thing he could use as a weapon; a broken shard of a mirror that had shattered after their fight yesterday.

His father's grin turned into a hunter's. "I'll see you at the reaping."

The boy didn't get up from his fighting stance. "I'll see you when I win."

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><p>When the District 8 children were gathered in the middle of the district, the streets were overflowing, like it was every year. Sutton was standing with a three foot circle of people free space around her, in the 15 year olds. Everyone avoided her. The girl with blue and green eyes, who has no family, and, supposedly, no future.<p>

James was standing in the twelve year olds with a deadly look on his face. Like Sutton, there was a large circle of personal space around him.

Kat announced the first name, dark bags underneath her purple eyes. That came as strange to the crowd of District 8 because Capitol people usually look amazingly healthy. "Anna Grace!"

Cries of outrage broke out among most people as the name was read. Anna Grace was a twelve-year old girl, small, and was sick with a deadly case pneumonia that never seemed to go away.

"I volunteer!" the red-head shouted, waving her ar in the air and walking forward. On her way to the front of the stage, she took a moment to touch the sick girl's shoulder and smile slightly. Anna just stared with pale blue eyes. Then she teared up as Sutton took her place on the stage.

"Sutton Marie Cardeano. Fifteen years old."

"At least the girl would die with family instead of the hands of some twisted psycho career," she mumbled under her breath. "I have no family to return to."

"And now the boys! " Kat shouted happily, but her voice didn't have the energy in it like it usually did. "Carson Lawrence!"

"I volunteer!"

Kat cringed at the blaring, rough voice. "_Another_ volunteer. Great," she hissed through a clenched jaw.

"Jammier Hamilton, twelve years old and ready for a good fight."

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><p><em><strong>Sutton POV<strong>_

The creepy smile of the twelve year old boy standing next to me made me shiver. I knew him from the rumors around the District's school system. They say his father beat him, tortured him even, and that he forced him to participate in the games. But the crazed look in his blue eyes told me he was brain-washed practically. He reached up to brush dirty blonde hair from his eyes and grinned at me. I shook my head and turned away.

We were going to be led to the room where good-byes are said. But I had no goodbyes to say. I had no family. I had no friends. I guess I could say goodbye to the nice baker and his wife, but it seemed pointless to me right now. If I died, I would just go down as an unfortunate victim of the Hunger Games who died before their time. So instead, I turned to face the crowd, my District, my home, and held two fingers up. I saluted my home that treated me so badly because it was still my home. But the whole time, I was looking over them, towards the land that held the dead, the cemetery. And I smirked.

My parents were there. Maybe I would be joining them soon.

I felt something heavy around my neck when I thought that last statement and glanced down to see my silver locket hanging on a thin silver chain. It contained a small picture of my family, my parents and I at my fourteenth birthday. It was rare to own a photograph. I felt special.

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><p><em><strong>Jammier POV <strong>_

The pang in my chest when I clutched the picture in my hand almost killed me. It was of my mother, who had long, silky blonde hair and aqua blue eyes. I thought she was beautiful, but not when my father murdered her a few weeks ago. She was my safe haven, where I went after my father scarred me. She would heal my wounds and keep them from getting infected. See, my father intentionally hurt me to make me deal with the pain. And he killed my mother to teach me to live with the pain of a loved one's death.

The man used to scare me, but he showed me the better part of life. The joy of training and winning. I was going to win the games. And by the look on that Sutton girl's face when I grinned was priceless. She was terrified of a boy three years younger than her.

It gave me a sense of...victory.

I knew he wasn't going to say good-bye to me. So I just sat on the velvet couch and ran my hand up and down the armrest. It felt weird, being in a rich and posh room when the closest I had been to this was accepting a pension for my mother's death.

The door creaked open, shattering my fantasy of my victory. A small, fragile looking boy hobble into the room, the trace of a smile on his lips. He hovered near the door, one hand on the handle as if to run at a moment's notice.

"I...I wanted to thank you...for saving my life at the reaping," he stuttered. He was no more than twelve, with pale skin and flaming red hair.

I eyed him. "You're welcome. I'll win."

The boy sighed and stuck out his hand. "My name's Carson. I live at the home for orphans."

"James," I answered, reluctantly shaking his hand. I couldn't place it. He reminded me of someone. He had one blue eyes and one green eyes...strange...

That's it! That girl, Sutton, had those same eyes and the flaming red hair. Maybe they were related somehow. But I didn't dare to ask such a question at this time. Maybe when I win.


	12. Reaping: District 9

Thanks for the understanding guys! Here's District 9, and do you remember my anonymous friend obsessed with squirrels? Well, she's writing District 10. So the next update it up to her. And then only two more districts and we can get to the real Games. ;)

And I must say, this is not my best chapter. I couldn't really connect to the female tribute until the good-bye. Sorry to her creator! I swear, I'll make up for it later in the Games.

REVIEWS APPRECIATED!

- LoneWolfe2

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><p>District 9 was for hunting for the Capital, and the occasional trade with another, upper district. The forests surrounding the district were usually filled with animals and swarming people, mostly male. Flying arrows and victory cries always seemed to echo. Archers perched in trees to shoot animals below, and knife-throwers remained on the ground, hidden in camouflage.<p>

"Two deer, one black bear, and five squirrels," a peacekeeper read from a clipboard, tsking under his breath. His eyes darted up to a teenage boy around sixteen years of age, who was hooking throwing knifes onto his belt. He had medium length, dark red hair with a fringe that swept over milky blue eyes. He stood a few inches taller than the Peacekeeper, having a skinny figure. His skin was almost albino white, except for the occasionally splatter of animal blood leftover from the hunt.

"How much for today's haul?" the boy whispered, secretly wishing to reach out and strangle the Peacekeeper.

"Not very impressive today, Ari. So only a few coins," the Peacekeeper said nonchalantly, shaking his head in a fake expression of sadness. This made Ari clench and unclench his fists repeatedly. Tossing nine coins into the air and letting them scatter on the forest floor, the Peacekeeper laughed.

Then he stalked away, towards another old man with a bow and arrow strapped across his back. Ari's eyes followed him and immediately identified the old man as Sharp Shooter. No matter his age, he could shoot and kill a deer from the top of the tallest tree. He was admired, but because of that, he was hardly paid any money. His home was a cardboard box in an alley way that the baker had thrown out.

"Great. Just great," Ari mumbled, bending down to find the missing coins. His hands scooped through soil and rock, but he could only recover seven. Sighing, he stood up and saluted a boy with blonde hair. "See ya, Card."

The blonde, Card, nodded back sullenly. He still hadn't finished the required ten hour hunt. He was Ari's best friend from when they were little kids. Card had a large family, so he had to take a huge amount of tesserae, excluding the required entries. But now they were 16 and hoping to make it though the last two years.

"Have enough for dinner, Ari?"

Ari gestured towards his empty pockets. "Just enough to feed the aunt and sister, Card."

When he arrived home, his aunt and sister were bustling around, stirring the stew that was simmering on the stove, putting the final touches on outfits, and making sure that the bath water was warm enough for Ari.

"Thanks, Snaker," he said, patting his sister's red-head. She grinned brightly, but it quickly slipped. Today was her first reaping, and everyone was terrified for her. Even though Ari had refused any tesserae, there was still a chance.

His aunt rushed over to him, her red hair piled on top of her head in a delicate manner only she could do. "Aw, Ari. I really wish you would at least try to keep your clothes clean. We don't have that much."

"I know, Aunt Corinea. You tell me all the time."

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><p>A girl with long, strawberry blonde hair watched Peacekeepers hang bright banners across store fronts with dark hazel eyes. Freckles dotted her nose. She looked around thirteen, wearing a forest green dress that swished around her knees with every step. It was slightly too large, and her mother had planned on hemming it, but they didn't have enough money for string.<p>

A thirteen year old girl was watching along with her. She had darker red hair, and almost black eyes. She stood out apart from the strawberry blonde because of the appearance difference, but they were the best of friends.

"Lozzie, please promise me you won't attack a Peacekeeper this year," the first girl whispered.

"Please, Melody! Last year I was only planning it. And after being reaped, I just...was furious."

Last year, at their first reaping at the age of twelve, Lozzie was reaped. And Melody had been about to volunteer for the sake of her friend and her friend's family, but another girl volunteered. Lozzie had been saved. But the volunteer had died.

"F-Forget it, Lozzie. Let's just go home. The rundown house is better than the bright banners they're hanging up."

The two girls walked side-by-side on the side of the cobblestone street. But, unfortunately, the fence surrounding the vast hunting forest ran along the side-street. They could clearly hear the horrible sound of arrow meeting flesh, and then a war whoop. So Lozzie started to sing. Her voice was clear, beautiful, and very advanced for her age. You didn't hear much singing going on in District 9, so everyone loved to hear her lovely voice filter through the streets. It supported her family, even. People pay her little to perform at birthdays and funerals.

"Hey, did you hear about what Lacy is planning?" Lozzie asked.

Lacy was the school prankster, the class clown that everyone loved. And any drama related to her was immediately picked up and spread like a wildfire. She wasn't rich, and her family was large, so she had to sign up for tesserae. But people helped her out here and then.

"What?" Melody asked enthusiastically.

"She's planning on collecting donations from people from school and give that to the Peacekeeper who runs the registration. As a bribe. I told her that it was stupid, but of course she didn't listen! That girl is frustrating!"

They laughed lightly, but they couldn't shake the lingering feeling of the Hunger Games.

"I have to go see Mom. I'll see you later. Two o'clock, right?"

"Yeah, Mel," Lozzie answered quietly, her voice faltering. "Good luck."

They high fived and went their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Kat was eager to read the two names and get the reapings over with. She was starting to wonder how previous women were able to see families ripped apart. It was a surprising reaction, considering her attitude for the past district reapings.<p>

She used her now zebra-print nails to grab a slip of paper from the girls' glass ball, not letting an old victor finish his speech about how the Hunger Games have changed his life for the better (obviously being written by someone from the Capital).

"Let's get right to the reapings!" Kat forced out in an enthusiastic voice.

Melody just stared at the ground in silent prayer, with Lozzie standing beside her. Their hands were clasped together and their heads were bent. "Think Lacy went through with it," Lozzie whispered.

With a snort, Melody shook her head. "She's not capable of going against a giant Peacekeeper. I can just imagine her face when they drag her away."

Ari had to practically tear his sister off of his leg and run for his life from his aunt to make it on time to the reaping. He stood with the boy from the forest, Card, and they both kept glancing scared looks at each other. All Ari could think about was Card's name written on those strips of paper over and over again.

Every citizen fidgeted as Kat read the slip of paper. "Melody Parker!"

Melody froze, with Lozzie instantly springing into tears, clawing and demanding for a volunteer. She couldn't think straight with her friend just being chosen to most certainly die.

"Mel! Come on! You can't go! I'll _kill_ if I have to!" Lozzie screamed as Melody was shoved towards the stage.

"Lozzie! Don't worry! I'll—"

She was cut off suddenly as a Peacekeeper grabbed her. He had gotten tired of the supposed "endless" waiting. He tossed her onto the stage, where she landed on the stage on her hands and knees, biting her bottom lip to keep from screaming every horrible word she could think of at that moment.

The crowd erupted into chaos, as it does whenever a child twelve or thirteen is chosen. They were too young, according to most.

It took the shouting of threats to shut up the citizens. They eagerly watched Kat as she sullenly picked the boy's name, shooting a sorrowful glance at Melody.

"Wow, she's developing a conscious," whispered Melody, crossing her arms. She was mad at every single organism that existed. She was angry at fate for deciding this for her. She had a younger sister who looked up to her like she was the most important person ever. She couldn't let her see the tears that were welling up.

"Ari Catflex!"

Ari and Card both tensed, shared a look, and gave each other a quick hug. They had already said good-bye in case something like this happened.

It remained silent as a small girl screamed. "ARI! No! Not my brother! Please!"

"Snaker!" Ari shouted back. "Shut it!"

Her screaming instantly ceased.

Ari took his place next to Melody, who had ducked her head and was sniffling almost silently. He stood their awkwardly, and then decided to comfort the crying girl. He reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. She froze and then shot a dangerous look at Ari that made him pull back.

"Volunteers?" squealed Kat, interrupting the tension shooting between the two.

It still was silent.

* * *

><p><strong>Melody POV:<strong>

"Lozzie! Do NOT break that!" I shouted. "Lozzie!" I cringed as a loud, sharp shattering noise pierced my ears. "You'll be whipped for that!"

"Whippings are uncommon!" she screamed at me. "How could no one volunteer for you? They know that you have a family to help support, right?"

I slid across the red velvet couch, savoring the soft feel, and bent over to access the now dead vase. It looked expensive, made with a thin clay painted with swirls and imbedded with gold strings. I reluctantly held out my arms. She watched with through blurry eyes that were red and puffed up. I guessed that she had been crying a lot after I had left the main stage. Now we were saying our final good-byes, possibly the last we'll ever see each other. I hated that thought.

I wasn't good with survival skills, but I guess that if I could survive hunger and freezing nights, I could stand a slim chance. I could throw a knife pretty well, and tying knots was effortless. And because of Lozzie, I could run faster than many girls at our school. Climbing trees was easy. But hunting is difficult for me because I've had no experience. Dad taught me a few things, but we both never expected for this day to come.

Lozzie finally snapped out of it and flung herself into my arms. We stood and hugged, crying into each other's hair and saying that she needs to be there for my sister. My mother wasn't exactly the greatest.

"You have to win, okay?" Lozzie said, gripping my shoulders and holding me at arm's length.

"I'm determined to return, Lozzie. You can count on me to try my hardest. I'll make it my life goal to win and come back to you guys. Whether life here is crap or not." I couldn't help but add the tiniest of humor.

"Y-Your token. Take the necklace."

The necklace she was referring too was a heart-shaped locket with a photo of us in it. It's engraved with the words 'semper amicissomos', which is latin for 'best friends forever'. Our personal 'friendship catchphrase'.

Soon, she was gone, disappearing behind the door. And then my younger sister was charging straight for me. Her head was bent and her arms were pumping as she plowed into me, knocking me off my feet. I smashed into the couch and wrapped my arms around her.

"Don't go!" the ten-year-old screamed.

Mother and dad soon followed, both shedding tears. Seeing my dad like that sent me into shock.

I've never seen him cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Ari POV:<strong>

Aunt Corinea was crying. Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she hugged my waist tightly, Snaker held in my arms. She was twelve, but that didn't stop her from acting like a five year old as she continued to sob into my already tear stained t-shirt.

"Promise you'll sing," Snaker cried. "I love when you sing."

I took a deep breath and set her down, prying Corinea off of me. I kneeled down to meet their eye level. Aunt Corinea wasn't very tall.

"Listen," I demanded. "Stay safe. Don't trust anyone. Only trust Card and Tarina. Got it?" I waited until they both nodded. "Snake, you're good with a knife. Use that. Survive."

I didn't dare promise to come back. I knew that I was a good knife thrower, and I could handle a bow if I was forced to. Climbing trees, easy. That could be an advantage, unless the Arena was a barren wasteland. Then it wouldn't help the slightest.

Then they were forced to leave. "Time's up!" according to the guard.

Tarina and Card were next. Tarina was the third to our trio. She had short red hair and bright green eyes. And those green eyes bore into mine when she walked into the room, Card behind her.

"Those Peacekeepers think they're the most important thing in the world! Did you see how that tore that girl away from her friend?"

I nodded, my attention drifting towards a portrait of the president. Or dictator, in many opinions. I wonder how it would feel to destroy the real Snow.

"Ari!" snapped Card. I whipped around to face my friends that have been there for me since we were babies in the nursery. "You have a chance. Don't give up like this."

Tarina nodded furiously. "You die, we die. That's the pact, right?"

"The pact is wrong," I said, slapping my hand onto the wall. "If I die, I need you there for your families and my family."

We all shared a look, then hugged. I would miss them.

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><p><strong>R&amp;R!<strong>


	13. Reaping: Distirct 10

**I have no excuse this time. I'll I have to say is I'm sorry. My friend bailed on the chapter after me pestering her for days, probably got on her nerves a _little_ too often, and she said that she'll write a later chapter. So sorry for the disappointment!**

** - LoneWolfe2**

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><p>A very pretty, dark-haired girl sighed as she set yet another armful of bread loaves onto the table. They were made from brown, dry grain rations and whatever flour she was able to buy at the market. The rough crust didn't taste that good, but the warm, moist insides made up for it.<p>

She was Chinese, with shoulder length black hair, amazing brown eyes, and a tall, athletic body type. Her legs showed a lot of muscle from running, and her arms were covered in small burns from a fire that had recently broken out. Her family ran a secret bakery for the poorer families of District 10, the livestock district. They didn't care how little money a family had, but always provided them with food.

"Mom," she cried, rubbing her hands together.

The cry made her mother jump, her hunched back straighten. She whirling around to face her daughter, knife in hand.

The girl stared with beautiful wide brown eyes. "Mom," she soothed. "Put the knife down. You won. It's okay."

Inside, the girl was panicking slightly. Her mother, Wong Flower, had won the Hunger Games two decades ago. But whatever happened to her in the arena changed her. Her mind was twisted, although her natural sweetness and kindness masked it from others. And every year, around the time of the reaping, she would be on constant high alert, only her father being able to calm her down.

They lived in the Victors' Village along with a few others. They were stinking rich compared to the other families of 10. And they spread that wealth around. They were generous, not greedy like others.

Wong slowly put her knife down, her accusing eyes never leaving the girl's face.

"Mai," she whispered. "Bring me a bag of grain."

It was silent for almost an hour as Mai shoveled bag after bag of grain into a large container that would be lowered and hidden beneath the basements floorboards. And she remained that way, careful not to disturb her mother, until her father came home from the farms. He managed to calm Wong down.

* * *

><p>A dark, hooded figure stalked back and forth in front of a large metal door. The door was obviously sealed shut tightly by a large system of locks, but was rusty and old-looking. The figure took large strides, occasionally swearing under his breath. It was silent all around on the abandoned farm. It had been slated for demolition after a rebel force started to meet there, but the Peacekeepers never got around to it.<p>

There was a small rustle behind the figure, and he spun around, hand flying to a knife tucked in the belt. A man, looking around 40, emerged from behind a cluster of trees, dusting off a long jacket. He had a tuff of blonde hair and sunken blue eyes.

"You're late," the first figure said, flipping his hood down.

A boy with rich, shaggy black hair and glowing blue eyes was revealed. He stood tall and skinny, but didn't look any older than seventeen. He had a white scar under his right eye, and his hands were covered in burns. His skin was a smooth pale white, the only imperfections being the occasional scar or burn mark.

"I have a big hull today, Wish. A cow, and a few chickens."

"Where," Wish asked.

"By the creek on your farm. I couldn't hide it anywhere else. Peacekeepers are flooding the place. There were three stationed outside the orphanage last night. One kid tried to run away. Jason, I think his name was."

Wish shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "He was a good boy." They both stood in silence for a minute. They both knew the punishment for running away was immediate death. Peacekeepers were cruel.

The boy cleared his throat loudly, raising his closed fist to his mouth. "So...how much? I have to feed a brother."

"Forget it. I'll give you enough for dinner for a week, Hunter. It's his first reaping. Let the kid have a good meal to look forward to," Wish sighed.

Hunter glanced around their surroundings. He knew them too well, memorized them even. It was always the old, rotting wood barn, same door, and same trek through the woods. He secretly killed livestock and hide them carefully, like he has been doing since his parents disappeared. If the Peacekeepers ever found out, his head would be sliced off then and there, no matter how many witnesses.

"Thanks," whispered Hunter, warily taking the sack of coins.

Kat sighed and leaned heavily against the podium on the stage. Just three more districts, she whispered to herself. But to her, this place smelt like a sewer.

"You won't let anything happen, right big brother'?" A small boy clung to Hunter's side, his blue eyes filled with ears and pale face flushed red.

Hunter looked away from the stage. "Yeah, Jake. I won't let anything happen. Go stand with your friends now. We have to move!" They separated and blended into the crowd just as two girls streamed past.

"Oh, my gosh, Britt! I am going to kill you! You made us late!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Mom didn't wake us up. It wasn't my fault!"

Mai quickly tied her black hair up into a bun and straightened her pale red dress, refusing to scream. Her feet stamped onto the dirt ground loudly as her sister, Britt, quickly tried to yank on a pair of sandals as they ran.

Britt was Mai's sister, with the same amazing brown eyes, but with blonde hair. Her face didn't give away that she was Chinese, and she was also leaner. Britt was seventeen years old, born only three years after her mother had won the games. She had been brought up by a different, harsher, quieter mother, but was still outgoing and bright.

"You are so dead when we get home!" Mai hissed, slamming into the crowd, disappearing among other girls.

The anthem blared, drowning out everything, and Kat began.

"Good morning, 10! How are we doing this fine day?"

Her ears were met with silence.

"Girls first!" she chipped in her high, Capital accent voice. Hunter's eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched. He hated the Capital's accent, with a long hiss on the 's'. It made him angry. "Let's see."

With a deep breath, Kat leaned towards the mic and bellowed, "Mai Flower!"

Mai's chocolate eyes shot wide open with surprise, her lips clamping together. Her fingers stopped playing with a loose thread on her dress sleeve and she was pushed forward roughly from behind, but a hand grabbed her's. It was Sunny, the blonde hair, blued eyed, best friend of Mai's, whose eyes were tearing and her face was turning a bright scarlet.

"You know my policy, Mai-Mai. I would do it, but—"

She stopped abruptly as Mai nodded, yanking her arm free. Sunny's policy: no volunteering. She had three little brothers and a sister at home.

Mai forced the tears back as she took her place next to Kat on the stage, in front of the security guards. She could see a blonde head bobbing up and down, her name being screamed over and over again. This time, it was Britt. But she didn't volunteer.

"Now the boys! We need just one more tribute," Kat strained digging her hand to the bottom of the bowl. "Jonah Neverlost!"

"No!" Hunter roared. His ice blue eyes grew wild as he slammed through the crowd, practically throwing people aside in his haste. Seeing his little, frail brother climbing the stage's stairs made him go mad. He couldn't picture seeing Jonah die on television.

"Do we already have a volunteer?" Kat gasped in fake surprise. Her sarcasm had gotten very cruel.

"I volunteer for Jonah! My name is Hunter Neverlost," Hunter practically screamed at Kat, even though he was three feet away from her now.

"No, Hunter! You can't!" Jonah cried, tugging on Hunter's sleeve, trying to drag him back into the crowd. But Hunter simply pried his fingers off and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Be strong. You'll see me at the good-byes."

Mai stared at the two brothers, almost identical. She knew the younger one had just turned twelve because of word around school. Whenever someone turned twelve, it was a big event. Her eyes focused on them, the crying brother and the emotionless brother hugging. It struck her heart. It should have been Britt volunteering for Mai.

* * *

><p><strong>Hunter POV:<strong>

"Disgusting," I whispered, looking around the room. How could the mayor be living like this while his people starve? It was pathetic.

I couldn't get the image of Jonah crying out of my head. His blue eyes filled with tears, his frail hands wrapped firmly around my waist. I have no clue how he would survive while I was in the arena. I took care of everything at home, always making sure he had enough to eat, that he didn't go to bed freezing. Ever since Mom and Dad disappeared, we've been fending for ourselves. But I guess Wish would step in and take care of him. He knew our predicament.

"Hunter, I—"

"I know. You'll take him in," I said back harshly. I always sounded harsh and cruel, but I couldn't help it. "Thanks."

Wish nodded, his hair floating around his head. He showed signs of aging, rare in our district.

"You don't have to worry. The wife loves him. We'll feed him and care for him."

"He can't sleep without Dad's ring. Hide it from everyone," I answered. He had Dad's ring, I have a woven bracelet made from straw, with a small sundial stuck on it. It was made by Dad and Mom had made the woven part, so it would be my token.

"I will, Hunter. You have a chance out there," Wish said, inching towards the door.

I stared at him with wide eyes. I've known him from the day I was born. He was great friends with Dad and he had provided me with extra money for whatever livestock I was able to kill. He had been like a second, secret dad.

I slowly walked towards him and hugged him, leaning my chin on his shoulder. He hugged me back, quickly, and then we separated. He clapped my back and was gone.

"H...Hunter?"

"Jonah, come here."

We hugged, he cried, I forced back tears. When it was time to go, I put both hands on his shoulders and knelt down to get to his eye level.

"Wish will take care of you. You'll live with him now. Follow directions and do everything he says, okay?" Jonah nodded, rubbing his eyes with closed fists. "Neverlost, right?"

Our last name was Neverlost, something I had changed "Donell" to. After Mom and Dad vanished, everyone told us that they were lost. So "Neverlost" seemed appropriate at the time. I had wanted a new life, to start over.

We did our secret handshake, something he had come up with when he was five. And then he was gone too, the door slamming shut behind him. I let out a shaky breath. That was probably the last time I would ever see him. And then get this...

I burst into tears.

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><p><strong>Mai POV:<strong>

My eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates when I had entered, ahem, been forced into, the room where the goodbyes would be taking place. I was used to hay and pitchforks, but the velvet felt amazing in between my fingers and toes.

The boy tribute, Hunter Neverlost, scared me. His eyes were cold ice, his stance deadly, and his presence threatening. He was seventeen, almost free of the Hunger Games. I felt bad for his little brother.

I knew that as soon as soon as I was reaped, I was a goner. I can't fend for myself out there! No matter the environment! If there's no oven or grain, I'll be dead in a few days. _If_ I survive the initial attack at the Cornucopia. I've been told that I'm a whizz at electronics, anything involving a wire or bomb, so if there's anything like that, I have a small chance.

Mom and Dad were first. When I saw Mom, I knew that this was bringing back memories. The terrified look in her eyes made me flinch. She looked ready to choke the life out of the closest breathing thing.

"Baby girl, you'll live. You'll win, right? For your Momma and I?" Dad asked quietly, keeping a hold on Mom's shoulders.

I sniffed hard and nodded. "I'll try, Daddy."

My eyes instantly widened. I haven't called him 'daddy' in so many years. I guess him hearing that made him tear up, his eyes watering.

"Baby girl." Dad forced a smile and released my now hysterical mother, who curled up on the floor and was crying. I hugged him hard and let him kiss my forehead. It felt alien.

Sunny came in next. It was awkward, after what she said about her policy right before I went on stage. But we managed a hug or two, and a few exchanged words. "You'll try, right?"

"Yeah," I managed to answer. "Take care of your family."

When Britt came in, it was complete silence. We both sat stiffly on the edge of a couch, facing each other. I know she's my sister, but she had promised that if I had been reaped, she would have volunteered. Unless something happened to make her think twice.

"Why?" I finally blurted out, my hands clasped tightly together and resting on my knees.

Her eyes seemed to stab into mine. "What?"

"You promised that if I was reaped, you would volunteer for me," I said in a small voice.

She sighed. "That was two years ago, Mai. I thought that—"

"Never mind," I replied harshly. "Let's just say good-bye, Britt. Good-bye."

She turned her head away, braking eye-contact. "Bye."

I know that I'll regret this encounter, our final good-bye. But it couldn't be helped. In the arena, I'll say out loud my good-bye to Britt.

"Mai!"

Mom's sudden cry snapped me out of our cold conversation. I shot out of my seat and pried the heavy wooden door open. There was a Peacekeeper posted as a guard, and then Mom running down the hallway. Her hand was digging through her purse frantically, her face anxious. She shot something at me. The Peacekeeper threatened something, but I couldn't hear him. I was too focused on whatever she had thrown. It was a small pearl, the one she had gotten in the arena.

"It's your token now, Mai!"


	14. Reaping: District 11

**An update! Finally! Halleluiah! This almost 100% written by my partner in crime, who shall now be recognized by "Screaming Snowman". Still no Fanfiction account, but she will butt in once in a while and say hi to everyone. She's also behind the reviews that tell me to update and pokes me with a stick. Ugh.**

**I'm uploading District 12 right after this!**

** - LoneWolfe2**

**Note: Good-byes are in third-person.**

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><p>A sweet, light song filtered through the trees, making workers with hunched backs smile. People raised their heads from watching their baskets fill and turned towards a tree. They had gotten used to this beautiful voice singing every day in the Orchards. The girl who sang it was always located at the tops of the highest trees, always had the most beautiful fresh-picked fruit, and always had a bright smile, which everyone managed to return. It was one of her many effects on people. She made them happy.<p>

At the moment, the girl was in an especially high apple tree. Her beautiful eyes, a brilliant green with black specks, shone radiantly in the early morning light as she searched and plucked fat red apples. She had straight, black hair that looked like, and was, razor blade slashed, and hung right under her shoulders. She had bangs side swept (and she constantly toyed with) and pale porcelain skin, but it was tanned a bit because of the constant beating down of the sun every day. She was skinny, like everyone else in District 11, and lithe. Her longish legs were wrapped tightly around the tree's trunk as she shimmied down to move on to the next tree.

"Beautiful as always, Kiy," an old woman whispered to her as she passed, which was a huge risk. It was dangerous to say anything while working.

Kiy didn't utter a thing, but just smiled kindly and nodded. She continued on to climb the tree and settled near the top.

"Hey, Kiy," a soft voice said. It was Seth, her best and first friend. His dark eyes smiled along with his lips. He, unlike her, had caramel skin and a mop of dark hair. He was tall and lean, with muscles from the hard work he was forced to do in the fields. Like most, he had started at the age of ten.

"Hey," Kiy replied, returning the smile as she picked an apple, twisting it off the branch. For a few moments, they were engulfed in a comfortable silence before Seth spoke up –softly, of course.

"I don't get it; why do we have to work on the day of the Reaping?" Kiy's smile left her face. She gave him a sad look.

"It's getting worse every year, Seth. Remember last year? They worked us until exhaustion."

"Still, it's not humane. We're still kids. We shouldn't have to go through this."

Kiy didn't say anything, but he knew she was on his side. That's just how close they were; they didn't need words to communicate.

Seth discreetly passed her a freshly picked fruit, careful not to attract any attention. They shared a look, smiled slightly, and went back to work.

One boy, perched high in a nearby apple tree, had heard their voices, but not their conversation, and gave them a questioning glance. He had long, shaggy, dark chocolate hair and deep caramel skin. His eyes were warm, almost black in color, when they were, in fact, a dark brown.

He tiredly released a huff of breath and continued with his work, throwing apples, pears, and other oranges down to an elderly man, who would carefully pile the fruit in a crate, close it up, and drop it into a wheel barrow. Wiping his brow, he did a quick sweep for Peacekeepers. Unless they were disguising themselves as trees, he was positive that the coast was clear. He quickly picked an apple and punctured it with his nail five times before giving it the old man. This meant, "Eat it now before the Peacekeepers come back because heaven knows we don't get enough to eat." Well, not exactly. But you get the idea.

The chocolate haired boy himself mournfully bit into a rather plump orange and savored the taste on his tongue. The juice was sweet, yet slightly tangy. How long had he gone without such a pleasure? He didn't know, but at that particular moment, he couldn't find himself to care.

"Lance!" The girl who had been previously talking before, Kiy, called to him. "The Wave's coming."

Startled, the chocolate haired boy, Lance, quickly took one last bite into the orange, stuffed it under the back of his shirt, leaned against the bark of the closest tree, and pretended to be a good little exhausted worker who had never even tasted the fruit, let alone lick the stem. After all, it was illegal. **(But I'm pretty sure you knew that. See, this unnamed friend of the author -WHO IS NOT OBSESSED IN THE SLIGHTEST WITH EVIL MAMMALS- is one smart cookie. ;3 Now as I was saying before –STOP RIGHT THERE! Mess with the connection again, LoneWolfe2, and I'll-) **

In District 11, a "Wave" was a group of twenty or so Peacekeepers doing a sweep over the fields to check and make sure that everyone was working. You see, the District was so large and vast that there was no way that the Peacekeepers could possibly watch over them all at once. That's why guards were posted everywhere, but today was the Reaping, so they were busy with other things.

The Wave marched through the field, the Peacekeepers ever alert of their every move. They walked with a sort of silent grace, but in a snobbish way that when you watched them, you couldn't help but feel they had a superiority complex. But no one dared say that out loud; they liked their tongues very much, thank you.

After the Wave was long gone, the people in the area relaxed. Kiy managed to release the tension in her shoulders and drop another apple into the basket below. Lance took a deep breath and sat down on the ground. In the opinion of most, which included him, District 11 was hell.

Kiy turned her head slightly and smiled sweetly, almost teasingly, at Lance. He couldn't help but smile back in a warm, polite fashion. It seemed like only yesterday when he first met her in the fields. Of course, he they went to the same school, but he could only catch glimpses of her through the crowd of children. But those glimpses couldn't ever prepare him for actually _talking_ to her. Gosh, his face had been so red.

Lance closed his eyes and smiled. It seemed so unreal that they were dating now. For about three months, to be exact. Other than his siblings, she was all he had, since both of his parents were dead.

Time seemed to mock the inhabitants of the District, moving bitterly slow until they were finally allowed to go home before the Reaping. There, they did their best to make themselves presentable and ready for what that year might hold; for some -more specifically, two- it would be a death sentence for crimes that they did not commit. The crimes of their ancestors.

* * *

><p>"Hello, and welcome the 70th the Hunger Games!" Kat announced just as she did every year. People clapped, but without the enthusiasm and a lot of cold stares, it felt awkward for the purple woman. That was one of the reasons she hated District 11; they made her feel foolish to be standing on stage. Why couldn't they be like the first few Districts? They were full of excitement and happiness. The people below her were full of dread and anxiety. But that was one of the reasons she liked the lower Districts; it made it so easy to mess with their emotions. It made the Reaping more dramatic, more suspenseful. Kat liked that. She liked that a lot.<p>

Kat continued to talk a bit more before turning her attention to a glass jar. "For a change, the gentlemen will go first." Looks of fright flashed upon a few faces in the crowd. Kat never let the boys go first in their District.

The purple woman managed to keep a satisfied smirk off her face. She was so good at her job.

The wigged woman took her time dramatically fishing out a sole slip of paper.

People gulped.

Breaths were held.

Kat took a dramatic breath of air. "Dylan Arrow!"

Lance froze. He could hardly believe his ears. _No way_, he thought to himself. _There was no way it could possibly be him._ It was too much to hope that he was hallucinating, and it definitely served no use; his little brother had been reaped, and his eyes only repeated the cruel truth.

Kiy was in a similar, yet much worse condition somewhere in the crowd of fifteen-year old girls. Her eyes were wide with fright, and she was covering her mouth, shaking. Fresh tears were cascading down her pale cheeks like little rivers. It was only a matter of time before she collapsed; Dylan was like a son to her.

But they could do nothing but watch as Dylan, small, ill, and scared, made his way through the crowd toward his doom.

_No._ The word resounded in Lance's skull, but did nothing to make the older brother snap out of it. The word repeated itself. _No. No._

Dylan continued to walk in Kat's direction.

_No. No. No._

An elderly man whispered a small apology as well as a soft, "Good luck" as the child passed.

_No. _

Dylan placed one reluctant foot on the stage.

_NO!_

"STOP! I VOLUNTEER!" Lance had finally snapped out of his trance.

While Kiy was trying her best to stay conscious, Kat sighed. What was with all the volunteers this year? Nonetheless, the purple woman regretfully allowed the 15 year old to take his brother's place.

"And now for the ladies," she said, trying to act cheerful but failing terribly. A bit of irritation was beginning to seep through her mask.

_And hopefully no one volunteers this time,_ she mentally added. In her opinion, it was starting to get really annoying.

Shoulders tensed.

Lips were bit.

And Kat got her wish.

"Kiy Everbloom!" There was a ripple in the crowd; Kiy had fainted.

* * *

><p>After the Reaping, Lance and Kiy had been escorted to two separate rooms to say their good-byes to their families. For Lance, it wasn't going too hot, and Dylan seriously wasn't helping.<p>

"Stupid big brother!"

He was currently clinging to his older sibling, crying his little heart out. Every so often he would stop and go into a coughing fit. Lance asked him –gently- to calm down after he spotted little splotches of blood in his hand. If he didn't take it easy, he was going to die in about six months. At least, that's what the doctor said. If they had the money, they could buy him the proper medicine and everything could be okay. But they couldn't, so it wouldn't.

Now that Lance thought about it, Dylan probably had a lot longer than him to live.

The newly reaped tribute glanced at his older sister who was sprawled on a nearby chair. She had been knocked out cold in the Orchards when she hit her head a few hours ago and hadn't woken up yet. In a way, he was kind of glad and angry at the same time. She would've only made things worse with her waterfall of tears, and it was a good thing that he would last see her in a peaceful sort of state, but it infuriated him. She was unconscious, so why was she here? Yet he already knew the answer: the bloody, stupid, sadistic Capitol.

After a while, the guard came in, slung his sister around his shoulder, and led a heartbroken ten-year old outside. But before the door closed, Dylan tossed Lance something –something wooden. He looked at the small object in his hand. It was a dog tag with a thin, leather chain. He vaguely recalled it as his brother's little masterpiece which he had carved one boring afternoon. Carved into its wood was one word: Life. A chill ran up his spine. It was as if it was made just for him. Just for the Games. He looked back up at his brother.

"Please don't kill Mom." And then he was gone.

In the other room, Kiy was awake and hysterical.

* * *

><p>"Why, Kiy? Why?" Her father was next to her. He held back tears as he asked her again and again. Why? Because his beloved daughter –the only family he had left- had just admitted to taking tesserae for the past few years.<p>

Mr. Everbloom stroked her hair as she sobbed and he eventually got an answer. "I-I wan-wanted t-to help."

He nearly hit himself. Of course she would have wanted to help. They had struggled so much in the past few years, trying to get over the death of his wife, her mother. He should have seen the signs. He should have been a better father. He should have-

"Stop," his daughter sobbed, reading his mind. "Stop blaming yourself! It isn't going to make anything better, so please just stop." The man's eyes softened. She was right.

Shakily, Mr. Everbloom unzipped his pocket and pulled out a necklace. Slowly, he pulled away and held it out in his hand for her to see. It wasn't amazing or anything; it simple, with a string made of hemp, with a single, small bronze music note. He tried to smile for his daughter's sake.

"It was your mother's," he said simply. "When we were small, she used to carry around the charm in her pocket. She was bound to lose it sooner or later, so I made it into a necklace for her. Ever since she died, I've kept it as a good luck charm, but I want you to have it."

He gently put the necklace on her, and smiled. The bronze complimented her eyes beautifully.

"Stay safe, okay Kiy?" Seth stood on the other side of the room, completely forgotten. Kiy immediately felt guilty, but Seth's eyes told her that she was forgiven.

Once again, they were engulfed in a comfortable silence, and once again, Seth was the one to break it.

"I wonder if they make good enchiladas at the Capitol."

Kiy stared at him. He stared back. At the same time, they broke into laughter. Seth was just so random at times. Even Mr. Everbloom had trouble suppressing a smile as he watched them. On the other hand, Seth was inwardly trying hard not to cry. But he held it in. She didn't need to know how he truly felt about her –she needed a friend and his support. But hey, at least he got to plant a kiss her on her forehead.


	15. Reaping: District 12

**Hello! You've just read District 11 and have now arrived in District 12. Finally, we have reached the end of the reapings and the real part of the Hunger Games is soon to start. I would like to thank everyone for all the reviews. Keep them coming!**

**In the future, after I reveal the tribute's scores, I will ask for sponsers. A sponser will be judged by how he/she answers a few questions. But REMEMBER: I am not accepting them at this time. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I've already got the next chapter started. **

** - LoneWolfe2**

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><p>Girl smiles, boy smiles back, girl blushes slightly, boy beaten to death.<p>

A girl, thin and lean, with beautiful eyes smiled gently. Her eyes turned from grayish silver into a turquoise blue when the torches' light hit them. Her black hair was long, curly, and silky smooth. It hung just past her shoulders. Her olive skin tone completed the beautiful appearance. She wore a slightly too small blue dress with holes in the sleeves, barely brushing the knees. Her shoes were old leather ones she had managed to buy from a street seller for less than half of the price he was asking for.

A boy, with a mop of black hair and aquamarine eyes smiled back. His young face and hands were caked in coal dust. He wore a miner's outfit, which had several bloodstains splattered on it from its previous wearers. His feet were encased in giant work boots that were so heavy they were hard to lift off the ground.

This special moment was in the middle of a school field trip. The girl was sixteen and the boy was eighteen, so he was forced to work in the treacherous mines. It was at least 100 degrees down here, the air hot and heavy and hard to breath. It was amazing how not many people died from having too much coal dust caked in their lungs.

"Hey," the boy said.

The girl's cheeks were a bright red from the intense heat of the air. "Hey, Ash."

The next thing either of them knew, the pick and hammer were ripped out of the boy, Ash's, hands and thrown aside. Two Peacekeepers were on him, throwing punches and kicks and jabs, anything to inflict pain, actually. Ash fought back, releasing a scream or two, but nearby miner's didn't bother to help. They simply looked away, like this happened all the time. The boy was strong, but the Peacekeepers had been sent straight from the Capital a few weeks ago, so they were harsh.

The girl tried to rip away from her teacher, who was desperately trying to keep her back, tears forming in her own eyes.

"STOP! He's the last thing I've got!"

There was a brief silence, and then a smashing sound. Her eyes grew wide as the Peacekeepers stepped away, dusting off their hands like beating the crap out of someone was the norm.

The boy was on the ground, in a ball, knees tucked under his chin, blood pooling around him, mostly around his head. The girl stopped screaming. Her teacher, frozen with shock, released her. She bounded forward, crossing the twenty feet of hard packed dirt and rocks, and fell to her knees next to the boy.

"Ash. Why you?" The girl turned slightly and faced the Peacekeepers. "Now I have no one!"

"ASH!"

The girl shot up, sweat pouring down her face and her nightclothes sticking to her skin. It was just a dream of the event that happened three weeks ago. She was at home, in the house that was appointed to her, in bed. Not in the mine anymore. Not back down there where the last thing she had in the world was brutally murdered right before her eyes.

But in the Capital building, across District 12, it was busy in these early hours. Lights were on and people were hurrying about. Not only was this the reaping day, but something from the Capital had been sent here to 12. A boy tribute.

He was sent here wearing a black cloak that he refuses to take off, a letter hanging off of his neck on a thin silver chain. It was addressed to the mayor and included only simple words.

_Dear Mayor of District 12,_

_ For this year's Hunger Games, I offer up this boy who carries this letter for the part of male tribute from 12. Thank you. I await your decision._

_ - President Snow_

And the mayor had scrambled everyone here for preparations, knowing that 'offer' means 'you better follow this and make the boy tribute or I will hunt down your family and slit their throats'.

The boy sat in an ornate chair, his hands resting on the velvet armrests. He ran his thumbs over the fabric, almost sighing with happiness. He hasn't felt anything like this since—

"Aubrey Brown, is it?"

The boy looked up, his face shadowed by the hood. "Yeah."

"You do know everything about your situation, right? Where are you from?"

He turned away from the mayor, staring at the wall again. "I am not allowed to give out that information."

The mayor huffed. "Who are your parents?"

"I am not allowed to give out that information."

"Well, what _can_ you tell me then?" The mayor practically screamed, throwing the papers he was holding to the ground. An assistant was instantly there, grabbing and ordering them again.

Aubrey shot to his feet and yanked the hood off of his head. "My name is Aubrey Brown and I've been sent to District 12 so I can be sentenced to death, just like the other 23 kids alike! I can't tell you anything else, _Mr. Mayor_, so would you kindly _SHUT THE HELL UP_?"

The whole room froze, their eyes stuck on Aubrey. He was certainly different. He had extremely pale skin, a very sturdy, well-fed looking figure, tall, and has one brown and one blue eye. He towered over everyone, around, six foot two, and he seemed to be around seventeen or eighteen years old.

"O-Okay, Mr. Brown. I just wish to inform you that a room has been prepared and the reaping is at two o'clock this afternoon," an assistant said. "Let's go through the schedule. At one, you will escorted backstage by Peacekeepers, and your name will be given to Kat. We will only make it seem like she chose a name from the reaping bowl. But every slip of paper will have your name."

The assistant waved her hand towards two men, who were hunched over a table, carefully writing his name on slips of paper.

"Your name will be drawn at exactly 2:07pm. Usually, the tributes have a moment to say goodbye to anyone who wishes to visit, but...we were told to immediately lock you in your room on the train."

Aubrey huffed, threw the hood back over his head, and sat down back in the chair. He threw his head back and laughed. "Alright! If the Capital wants to fight, I'LL FIGHT!"

Everyone stared at him. Why was he laughing when he was being sent to his death? Why?

His laugh, deep and velvety, suddenly cut off. "Well, I better get ready. I want a dish of your most delicious food in my room when I get there, please. I think I should be treated with the upmost respect because the Capital sent me here personally and I'm about to die!"

He laughed again.

When his throat was exposed, the mayor could see a strange topaz necklace hanging on his neck. He cleared his throat and was about to ask what it was, but he decided not to.

"Will that necklace be your token?" The assistant carefully asked.

Aubrey nodded.

"Well, we have to have it checked by the Capital. Can you please give it to me?"

He released such a loud growl from deep in his throat that she jumped back and clutched onto the mayor's arm, her face clearly showing she was terrified.

* * *

><p>"Here we are again, District 12," Kat piped. "Let's skip through all of the causalities and such and get right to the reapings! Here we go, girls. Let's see..."<p>

She trailed off, her hand searching the bowl until a particular slip of paper caught her attention. She smiled brightly. _Finally, _she thought. _Last reaping. Let's get this over with._

"Autumn Flyrose!"

The girl, Autumn, looked up from her necklace. Her eyes grew cold and hard, and she walked forward, everyone silent around her. She was outcasted at school, and most of the girls her age had witnessed the same thing three weeks ago.

Ash's murder in the mines.

She took her place beside Kat onstage. When Kat tried to smile at her, she just stared at her. Kat cringed and quickly hid it. Reaching into the bowl, she tried to ignore the strange, cold gaze that was being stabbed into her.

"Aubrey Brown!"

District 12 seemed to freeze at that exact moment. Everyone knew each other, the district was so small. No one knew an "Aubrey Brown". Looks were shared, whispers exchanged, as the previously cloaked boy was shoved onto the stage. He now wore an old miner's outfit, boots and overalls, all stained perfectly with blood and coal dust.

Autumn stared at the boy through her bangs. He was definitely attractive, in a strange, paranormal way. His eyes were striking to her. One blue and one brown.

"Strange," she whispered.

No one dared to say a word as the pair was led offstage and behind the curtain. Autumn kept an eye on him at all times, trying to cover up her curiosity. But Aubrey noticed, despite her amazing emotional mask.

"What," he growled as they were led down the hall, Peacekeepers keeping a gun pointed at their backs.

Autumn lowered her hands and looked him directly in the eye. "Who are you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Aubrey Brown POV<strong>

The Peacekeepers kept a close eye on me the whole time. I was eventually ripped away from the girl, Autumn, I recalled. I was led onto the train, down a few cars, and locked in my room for the next few days. I would only be allowed out during dining hours, to watch the reaping's recap, and to discuss plans with my mentor. I really wanted the chance to speak to Autumn. I could tell by her face and voice that she was suspicious of me, and a little scared, even.

But oh, well. I can't let that bother me now. She was probably sitting in a comfy room, surrounded by family right now.

_As am I_, I growled. I jumped and landed on my stomach on the soft mattress. I was dead anyway.

Why let the Capital win when you are their biggest enemy?

* * *

><p><strong>Autumn Flyrose POV<strong>

That boy. I don't know him. I can tell he's not from any District I know off. Maybe one of the higher districts, but definitely not ours. I've never seen two different colored eyes. Strange.

I sat on the couch, running my hands up and down my knees. This blue dress was too small, but I didn't have anything else to wear. Well, that dress and my necklace.

Ash had made it for me. It is a wood carved wolf with aquamarine gem eyes, hanging on a thin chain made from braided straw. He made it right before the murder of him. He was only eighteen and the only person on this planet that showed me any love any more. My parents had died when I was fourteen, two years ago. We had been friends since childhood, so we quickly became even closer. Not romantic, just the closest two people could get.

No one came to say good-bye, not that I was expecting someone. I was treated like crap at school, and the street merchants knew me as "Dirt Girl", because I was dirt poor.

"Ms. Autumn, will you please follow me?" A Peacekeeper glanced into the room and saw me on the couch. "It's time to go."


	16. S Snowman 8000

Hello, everybody! I just wanted to inform you guys that my evil-mammel loving best friend now has a FanFiction acoount! It's "S. Snowman 8000". She doesn't have anything written or published yet, but she is writing the next chapter. And itll be long, so don't expect it anytime in the close fututre. But I promise, it'll happen quicker than last time!

- LoneWolfe2


	17. Chariot Rides: Part 1

**The Chariot Rides are finally here! I'm so sorry for the wait, most of the blame leaning towards S. Snowman 8000. So, don't blame me.**

**And _PLEASE_ review. Flames, comments, compliments are all accepted. For both S. Snowman and I. **

** - LoneWolfe2**

-:-

**Excuses:** Writer's block, sickness, school, loss of hard drive, and a huge interference from a family member, who tried really hard to keep me from writing this. If you still hate me, I don't blame you. I'd be angry too if I'd have to wait this long, so I'm really sorry. You don't have to forgive me.

**Reminder:** This chapter was made solely by me, S. Snowman 8000. LoneWolfe2 did not write a single word, but only because I insisted.

**Note:** If I didn't mention something specific about your character, it will be in the interviews chapter. Also, Crio Lit will not be the only one to be in the spotlight. She is only the first, and will fade into the background after this chapter, occasionally making short appearances and mentions. Also, she's only the first because her goodbyes were messed up, which was a mishap on LoneWolfe2's part. She tried to convert the original third person to first person, but oh, well.

**Disclaimer:** I, S. Snowman 8000, do not own the Hunger Games or any of the tributes except Crio Lit, and the child named Leaflet Snow, who does not do any fighting in the Games. LoneWolfe2 also does not own the Hunger Games or any of the tributes except for Lance Arrow, Hunter Neverlost, and Autumn Flyrose.

_**. . . Remember, flame! FLAME LIKE THE WIND! If you don't, I can't improve!**_

-:-

Leaflet, a girl of eight years, stared down at the Capitol's massive white gate from her place on the balcony, ignoring the excited Capitol citizens below her. In her opinion, they were all useless idiots. Useless, for they had no political power. Idiotic, for not wanting any in the first place. They ranked twelve on her List.

The girl closed her foliage-colored eyes. She hated this time of the year. Then again, she hated a lot of things. Like her cage of a room, for instance. That was number three.

She opened her eyes and turned her gaze toward the blue horizon. For her, it was still hard to believe that the Eastern powers were no more. Like a great fire, Panem had set them aflame, watching them burn until there was nothing but ash. The thought made her sad. They had been Panem's last and only enemies, and now they were all gone. Enemies, for they were not allies. Gone, for most of them they had been protesting their ways. But mainly for their freedom. Panem didn't want its people to start getting funny ideas.

Leaflet took a wistful breath of air. Freedom. She wondered what that had felt like.

The boy next to her –her "helper" – interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Leaflet." Oh, how she wished she had been named something else. "How much longer until they arrive?"

The girl paused for a moment. "Start it. Now." The boy, who was no older than her, eagerly gestured to another who showed equal enthusiasm. In a matter of seconds, the national anthem of Panem was being blasted all across the city.

"Gates, pronto." She commanded tonelessly. They obeyed without question, and she watched as the doors opened. As usual, the timing was absolutely perfect.

_You could run away_, a voice echoed in her mind, clear as crystal. _You could steal a hovercraft. You could get away_.

_But I'm not done here_, she replied venomously. _Now get lost._

-:-

The first chariot to emerge from the Gate was striking. It was artistically made of glass and silver, with thousands of tiny precious gemstones decorating the surface to create the image of a glittering sea. Pulled by two handsome horses, it was certainly a chariot fit for District 1.

This also went for the tributes. The male, Jack Andermin, was a fourteen-year old with a powerful posture, a handsomely pale complex, and smooth platinum blonde hair that was carefully slicked back. His black eyes roamed the crowd warmly as he waved to the people of the Capitol, his charming white smile instantly registering him as a "hottie." His outfit was also something to behold, too, as his earring, chains, rings, and bracelets were all made of gold. They complimented his appearance further, but not as much as his tuxedo, which in Leaflet's opinion, was the only thing worth looking at. Like his accessories, it was also made of gold, but was uniquely different. Someone hadn't just manufactured it and given it to him to wear. No, this was a work of gorgeous art, gingerly handcrafted from the thin threads of the precious metal. With the sun hitting him just right, Jack Andermin shone like an untouchable star.

The crowd just couldn't get enough of him, no matter how many smiles he handed out.

His fellow tribute was having similar results. Her name was Amathyst Jadette Golde, and she was knock-out beautiful. She was perfect from head to toe, with amazing curves, flawless skin, and eyes that shone with wealth. Her lush blonde hair still had it gleaming solid gold highlights, but was now exquisitely braided with diamonds and her favorite, the amethyst. Her costume was a two-piece bikini, which was delicately forged from two large pieces of that same gemstone. Out of the two, she seemed to be having the most fun as people competed for her attention, showering her in fresh flowers and affection.

Leaflet stared intently at Jack's eyes. Taking this as his cue, her helper happily produced a small notebook and pen.

She ignored his positive smile. "Jack Andermin. Fourteen. A master at manipulation. Spoilt. Snobby. Five bucks say he's really Draco Malfoy in disguise."

"Wait, what?" The boy looked confused. He very well knew it wasn't his place to question her, but who on Earth was Draco Malfoy? The first thing that popped into his mind was that he was a model for Solti's Soy Sauce commercials. Or maybe Carton's Cabbages. Because if he was, that would explain everything perfectly. No one bothered to watch such boring commercials.

Leaflet was silent. "Never mind. You heard nothing." She looked away.

She moved onto the next tribute. "Amathyst Jadette Golde. Seventeen. Self-centered. A charmer. A Career Tribute. Also, she likes beer."

"Beer?"

"Beer."

District 2's chariot was guided through the Gate by a pair of tough-looking black horses. They strode with a mix of pride and dignity, making their way through the crowd with high heads and shiny coats. Looking at them, Leaflet couldn't help but think that it was a perfect match. After all,District 2 was the motherland of Peacekeepers, so it only made sense that their horses would be stuck up too.

As it turned out, both tributes were decked out in outfits that related to the officers of Panem, much to her distaste. The boy, Caden Dominick, more so. At six feet, he was much taller than his fellow tribute and much more muscled. He had bright blue eyes and soft, light blonde hair that made you think of sunlight. With his gentle eyes and blindingly white smile, he looked like a really buff angel.

Leaflet snickered.

Caden Dominick wore a special, form-fitting peacekeepers suit. It was absolutely stunning; gems of all sizes and colors covered every inch of the suit, making him shine very much like Jack Andermin, but with a more powerful poise. Looking at him made Capitol girls scream; he looked like he could be a prince, maybe a king!

"Caden Dominick. Sixteen. Master flirt. A charmer. Vengeful. Very determined."

The other tribute was named Maceline Valentine, and she was literally shining out there. She was rather pretty, with fair skin and long, straight, strawberry blonde hair that appeared to be natural. Her sky blue eyes were dreamy, but a tad bit haunted which, in turn, produced an air of mystery around her. That air mixed pretty well with her very short dress, which was made of thousands of tiny glittering diamonds from the mines of District 2. Last but not least, she wore a stylishly modified Peacekeepers. In the eyes of many, she was not just mysterious, but desirable. However, she didn't look too happy to be weighed down by her makeup, so Leaflet could tell she wasn't shallow.

"Maceline 'Macy' Valentine. Seventeen. Kind. Polite. Delusional."

A new wave of cheers broke through the crowds as soon as District 3's chariot was spotted. It was like a flash from the medieval past, only futuristic. It was made solely of iron, with hundreds of small red screws puncturing the surface to create patterns of deadly fire. Then, as a further show of the creator's genius, a pair of elaborate iron dragon wings protruded from its sides. They flapped realistically as the chariot moved forward.

Inside, playing the part of a knight in shining armor, was Yuni Flewsel, a short, dashing boy with long jet black hair, aqua blue eyes, and suntanned skin. On his head he wore a dark, metallic yellow factory helmet. He sported a black jumpsuit, which let the world take note of his muscle. He waved shyly to the crowd.

"Yuni Flewsel. Seventeen. Smart. Deceptive. Currently unstable."

Next to him, playing along as the damsel, was Elixir Ywede, a beautiful girl with golden eyes, olive skin, and artistic makeup. For the opening ceremonies, her long black hair was a mix of silver and green highlights. She wore a long, glittering, silver dress that became slightly see through as it clung to the top half of her body, but loosened past her hips. As a finishing touch to the garment, faint, chalky designs of cogs covered parts of the lower skirt and neckline. To complete the image, she wore fingerless green gloves and matching five-inch stiletto heels.

Normally, Elixir looked a bit pretty. Now she looked wondrous.

"Elixir 'Lix' Ywede. Thirteen. Good actor. Sarcastic. Underneath, sensitive. Hates the sight of suffering."

The chariot of District 3 rode off to the City Circle, only to be replaced with District 4's. And boy, was it a chariot. Made almost entirely out of black metal, the thing resembled a War Fin, the most vicious fish alive. With severely sharp fins and scary teeth, it looked as if it would come to life and bite your head off. It large round eyes were glass, so you could look through them and see odd little red fish swimming about. In a weird way, they were kind of cute. Well, maybe, if you could overlook their giant fangs.

Leaflet nearly choked when she saw them. "Exultant, is it . . . _wise_ to keep a fish like War Fin in public? Without being drugged?" As always, her helper replied happily. A little _too_ happily.

"Why, of course! We have the President's permission. Why do you ask?" He questioned cheerfully.

Her eye twitched. Did no one realize what a sadistic _monster_ that man was? She paused before slamming her head into the balcony. Of course no one knew. Because: "I'm surrounded by idiots." "Me too!"

A few minutes later, Leaflet had decided to look up. She instantly regretted it. Her pale hands shot up and clutched her smiling mouth, trapping her childish laughter. Next to her, Exultant had given into the emotion, like the majority of the Capitol people below them. Either what they were seeing was a joke, or the stylist was just weird. But the most eye-catching out of the two tributes ended up being Jacob Maheli, and he seemed to be enjoying every minute of it, if his smile was anything to go by. He was of average height, with a stocky build and clear blue-green eyes. On his happy head was a thick mass of curls, which was either red or gold. Most people were having a hard time deciding which. His eyelashes were definitely blonde, so maybe they were too?

Finally managing to get a grip on herself, Leaflet focused on his costume, the reason of his instant fame: a bright, girlishly pink jumpsuit. Upon closer observation, she –along with the rest of the crowd- realized it wasn't a regular jumpsuit. Its surface was covered with the large diamond-hard scales of a female War Fin, which was, by far, a lot more violent than the male ones that inhabited the chariot. There were a lot bigger, too.

"Jacob Maheli. Thirteen. Comedic. Friendly. He's very silent with strangers."

Francis Beale, Jacob's fellow tribute, was trying hard to keep up with him. She was tall and lean, but her stance was firm. She had her light brown hair fanned across her semi-dark shoulders in a loose, free manner, as her warm milk chocolate eyes greeted the crowd. Her outfit was nice and simple; just a modest white bikini and a robe of net. As an added touch, she carried a thick spear in her left hand.

Leaflet narrowed her eyes in thought. Spears like that were used solely to hunt female War Fin, as they were much too smart (and strong) to be caught by nets or rods. To catch one, the fisher would have to not only be skilled, but very brave. Or seriously stupid. Only the best of the best could survive an encounter with War Fin –much less a female- and half of the time they escaped with nothing but injuries. Together, the two portrayed a powerful image.

The child cleared her thoughts. "Francis Beale. Fourteen. Comedic. Hyper. Smart."

The chariot for District 5, the District of power, was one of Leaflet's favorites. It was pure white and subtly lined with gold and silver, with carefully carved clouds and crowns scattered across the surface.

The child figured that the chariot was referring to God. Last time she checked, he was pretty powerful. Looking at the tributes, she couldn't help but think she had hit the nail right on the head.

Victor Scott, the male tribute of District 5, was dressed as a really tall angel with _really_ big feet. He was really skinny, too, with freckles splashing across his nose and short, grayish brown hair. His stylist had fitted him in sparkling snow robes, a pair of fluttering white wings, and a radiant halo, all of which looked surprisingly good on him. His timid hazel eyes were currently trying to smile to the crowd. Leaflet noted, with little interest, that they turned a pretty gray in the shade.

"Victor Scott. Fifteen. Quiet. Witty. A leader." She observed his chariot-mate and instantly decided that she looked a lot more heavenly.

Her name was Johanna Gaylones, and she was the first twelve-year old she had seen so far. She wore the same thing as Victor, but everyone agreed that she wore it a lot better, as she was simply adorable. Her cheeks were a rosy red, her hair short and brown. And those cute coffee brown eyes? She was an instant favorite.

"Johanna Gaylones. Teasing. Dreamish. Likes to laugh. Easily provoked." Leaflet turned toward the gate for the next chariot. Looking back, she wished she didn't.

District 6's chariot was shaped like a subway. It was a nice shade of white, with glossy dark windows and sleek grey wheels. But that wasn't the problem; in fact, the problem wasn't even an inanimate object. It was a certain human being who was supposed to be acting unimaginably happy while she rode to her death. But _**no**__,_ that same problem decided that it was too boring and she was better off seizing control of the chariot.

"C'mon Chestnut, YOU CAN DO IT!"

That problem was a midget named Crio Lit, who was currently riding on the back of the largest horse Leaflet had ever seen. If that wasn't enough, she was using a fishing pole to dangle a juicy-looking red apple right in front of its vision. Just add the fact that the horse went nuts, and you have chaos.

Crio had been fitted in a yellow button-up shirt, midnight black pants, a dark green scarf, and a pair of shiny silver boots. Her olive face was mostly untouched, with the exception of a bit of light makeup and a pair of platinum square glasses. The same went for her short black hair, which was done in her usual low ponytail. But instead of cutting it to look even, her stylist had decided to spike the ends to pointy perfection.

Crio Lit possessed absolutely no riding talent. Even Exultant, who refused to see anything but lollipops and rainbows, could perceive that much. Unfortunately (or at least in Leaflet's opinion), the Capitol people seemed to realize that as well.

"AHHHH!"

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"HIDE YOUR CHILDREN!"

"MY WIG!"

The last shout was produced by an unnaturally skinny woman, whom Chestnut randomly decided to eat. By sheer luck, his teeth only managed to sink into her square hairpiece. But upon receiving a good long taste, he quickly lost interest, as he realized it tasted _nothing_ like sugar cubes. So he let her go, and tossed the china white wig back into the crowd.

"MY WIG!"

_Yes, we heard you_, Leaflet thought. _Now shut up. It's starting to get good._ Her job long forgotten, she watched in glee as this process was repeated again, this time with a pointy orange one. Her helper, on the other hand, was on the floor in fetal position, rocking back and forth as he muttered something about happy places. He would occasionally flinch every time a particularly loud –and dramatic- scream would fill the air.

_Poor kid_, she would have thought if she had noticed. _You just can't handle conflict, can you?_

Of course, that was a big no. But it didn't matter. An answer was useless without a question.

-:-

Down on the ground, Crio was having some major problems. First, she could not steer correctly. Just the slightest glimpse of red sent Chestnut hurtling toward the source. And then, of course, there was the noise. Whether it was grown men or tiny children, every single Capitol civilian seemed to be attempting to scream their heads off. Needless to say, it was extremely annoying.

"The one day I'm wide awake," she muttered, "and everyone's screaming. Go figure."

The other tribute wasn't as calm. His name was Castor Windwhistle, and he was clinging to the chariot as if his life depended on it. He was pretty attractive, with his sun tanned skin and strong muscle build. His hair was curly and somewhat short, with a nice shade of blonde. And then there were his eyes. Those light blue orbs, often mistaken for swirly silver, were like a window to his soul. They usually held a kind gaze, one that would brighten your day and make you smile. Now, however, they were full of fear.

"Crio! Slow down!" He yelled over the noise. He instantly regretted this motion. The chariot took another sharp turn, causing him to bite into a bit of his tongue. The taste of warm blood never felt so horrible.

Unfortunately, Crio didn't hear a word. Her pale green eyes continued to scan the crowd for an opening. She wanted to get to the City Circle as soon as possible, and she didn't particularly want to torture these creatures any more than she already had.

_Creatures._ The word drifted on the tide of her mind, like a jelly fish chilling out at sea. It described these life forms perfectly.

_Because a human isn't human without a heart_, she recited_._ _And a murderer is only a killer without a soul._

-:-

Leaflet watched as Chestnut plowed through another set of people just outside the City Circle. When the girl had finally realized Exultant's position earlier, it had taken her a few minutes of awkward comforting to at least get him to stop talking to himself. What really got him off the ground was Castor's costume.

Like the tributes from District 5, Castor Windwhistle had been dressed like Crio, with some minor differences and altered colors. For example, he lacked her meaningless glasses, and his hair had been given a trim. And instead of yellow, his shirt was sky blue, his pants a bright white. Unlike Crio's footwear, looping patterns of silver had been imprinted onto his ash black boots. His scarf was the same ridiculous length as hers, but his had copied his eye color perfectly.

But none of those things had captured Exultant's attention like his lab coat. Long, black, and glossy, it stood out clearly like a shining beacon. Tiny lights were embroidered into its surface like stars in the night sky, creating the twinkling images of rockets, planes, and hovercrafts. They seemed to come to life, steadily blinking their way across the smooth fabric, beckoning for people to come and admire them. Exultant was one of them.

_I still can't believe I was distracted so easily_, Leaflet twitched. _Snow is going to have my head . . ._ But she couldn't just pretend it wasn't totally worth it. She smiled for a second, savoring the sweet expressions of horror engraved into her memory. She could almost die happy, if she didn't still have a mission to complete.

_But Snow, _she continued,_ requires a complete report of this information every year. Therefore, he will always require my assistance, whether he likes it or not._

She propped one elbow on the balcony and rested her chin on her palm in a somewhat bored fashion. Her other arm rested on the terrace, a single finger thoughtfully stroking the dazzling white surface. It was hard to believe that anything could have been so spotless and lovely, but she failed to acknowledge it as she buried herself into a world of thoughts. Its beauty wasn't the only thing to escape her notice.

"Miss?"

_I'll have to attend the interviews_, she concluded. _But Snow would never allow me to go. All those cameras . . ._

"Miss Leaflet? Are you listening?"

_But he's greedy. He'll have to agree. Tight rules and conditions are guaranteed, and I'm positive he'll make me sit in a heavily guarded hovercraft. No one will notice what they can't see. _A thought suddenly dawned on her._ Who will drive? Who will watch over me? As far as I know, Snow puts trust in no one–_

"Lee? Are you dead? 'Cause you haven't been twitching for a while." Leaflet's face started rapidly changing colors. For a dangerous moment, she was as silent as a stone, but as deadly as a bomb.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME LEE, YOU_ ANT!"_ Exultant shrunk under her demonic gaze. It was scarily similar to his mother's.

"Hey!" He tried to gather enough nerve to look and sound equally angry, but his words were nothing more than frightened squeaks. "I thought you promised not to call me that."

She pointed at him dramatically. "And you promised not to call me Lee, Bean Boy!" He turned a rosy pink. Like her, he was very small his age and surprisingly sensitive about it. She couldn't truly understand why, as she had never cared about her short stature, but she appreciated the extra weapon.

Exultant stuttered a bit, searching for an appropriate insult when he suddenly shouted: "Lee!" It all went downhill from there.

"Ant!"

"Lee!"

"Ant!"

"Lee!"

"Shorty!

"Lee!"

"Super Shorty!"

"Lee!"

"So-ridiculously-short-you-become-one-the-floor!"

"LEE!"

"I don't get why he even tries," said Mr. Chronos as he sipped his creamy coffee. "He'll never win."

"Sir," hissed his concerned assistant. "Shouldn't you stop them? At this rate, they'll get hurt." The man thought about that for a moment. Ever since that girl could talk, she had been –in a sense –his superior. She would alert him and his team when to start and stop the anthem, as well as the opening and closing of the Gate. They had a tight schedule to run, and everything needed to blend perfectly in order please the President. To do this, they needed her.

He took a big bite out of his frosted doughnut. Before Leaflet had come along, they had costly machines to retrieve that information needed to set everything up, as the trains were always getting faster. With her flawless sense of timing, she was as good as any machine, and far cheaper. Her strange ability aside, he had a feeling she was much more valuable than she let on. For some reason, the idea always seemed to humor him.

_I mean, why else would President Snow have this place crawling with sensors and hovercrafts? _He joked._ He probably wanted the building's force field built for her safety, too._

He almost laughed out loud.

_Yeah, right! Those safety precautions were added years ago! In fact, they came about the 68__th__ Hunger Games, so there was . . . no . . . way . . . she . . ._

Mr. Chronos stared at the table. "When did the Miss start helping out?"

"Sir?" His assistant was confused. Was he going to give her one of his pathetic speeches about how Miss Leaflet could handle things on her own? Because if he was, he was going to taste her glove.

"When. Tell me when," he insisted. The woman gave him a sour look.

"I believe it was the 68th Hunger Games, sir."

Chronos stopped breathing. His mind vaguely registered the screaming taking place on the balcony. Apparently, Exultant had finally found a good insult, as she was angrily screeching something about Mega Midgets. She was immediately tackled to the ground.

"Take it back! Take it back!"

"Not on your life, you _ELF_!" The woman was appalled.

"Kids! Don't fight–" She was cut off as Chronos' fist came slamming down on a large white button.

-:-

**"The other half of this chapter is coming soon," S. Snowman 8000 said. She looked a bit disappointed. "I know this chapter took a long time, but I ended up getting a bunch of problems. You can see them above in–" She was swiftly cut off when the door was ripped off its hinges and kicked to the ground, revealing an angry LoneWolfe2.**

**"Cookies_. Now._" S. S. 8000 began to sweat bullets.**

**"Cookies? What cookies? Um, you do realize you're going to have to fix my door, right?"**

**LW2 ignored her weak attempt at changing the subject. "Do you know how many people waited for this chapter?"**

**S. S. 8000 tried to play innocent. "Um, a lot?"**

**"WAY TOO MANY!" The poor girl was blown away by the sheer volume of her voice. She yelped as she roughly hit a wall, leaving an indent of her head behind. "As a fine for making us all wait, those tasty pastries are ours!"**

**S. S. 8000 looked dazed. "Hey," she sputtered. "I thought we agreed not use Author Powers!"**

**LW2 suddenly turned from demonic to nonchalant in a matter of seconds. "I lied." A mental brick labeled "Idiot" hit S. S. 8000 on the head. Suddenly remembering the viewers, she turned to them.**

**"Like I said in Note above, if I didn't mention anything specific about your character, it will be in the interviews. If I change something about the costumes, it's to fit the district. If you have any complaints or requests about how your character will be presented, PM me," she said hastily. She returned her gaze to LW2, who seemed to have called upon some friends.**

**"Oh my gosh," S. S. 8000 whispered silently, not knowing what to think. "It's the Black Veiled Brides fans."**

**She was horrifically correct. Everywhere, fans were entering the house with the intent of helping LW2, who was absolutely crazy about the band.**

**They seemed to pop up out of nowhere, entering the house from all openings. The door, the windows, the chimney, the toilet . . . there was just no end to them.**

**Confidence flowing through her, LW2 gave S. S. 8000 a smug look. That look quickly slid off her face when she realized she wasn't even paying attention anymore.**

**"Get out of my toilet!" S. S. 8000 chased a sopping wet person out with a broom. "Ugh, don't just run around! Go through the window. You're leaving water everywhere!"**


	18. Chariot Rides: Part 2

_**MUST READ AN!**_

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><p><strong>Excuses:<strong> School work (including a joint project with LoneWolfe2 and our "normal" friend), a short period of writer's block, and a hint of laziness. That is all.

**Reminder:** This chapter was made solely by me, S. Snowman 8000. LoneWolfe2 did not write anything for this chapter, but she did threaten me as motivation. To this day, I have no idea if she was kidding.

**Note:** If I didn't mention something specific about your character, it will be in the interviews chapter. That will be written by LoneWolfe2 because she doesn't want me writing anymore. Apparently, I take too much time to update when she KNOWS how busy I've been with school. Heck, she's in all of my classes.

**Disclaimer:** I, S. Snowman 8000, do not own the Hunger Games or any of the tributes except Crio Lit. I also own Leaflet Snow and Carnation Bones, as well as Mr. Chronos, whom I forgot to do add in the disclaimer last chapter. LoneWolfe2 also does not own the Hunger Games or any of the tributes except for Lance Arrow, Hunter Neverlost, and Autumn Flyrose.

**This is the part where you throw tomatoes at my face. Aim carefully.**

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><p>Ello, fellow fanfictioners! Finally, an update! I'm sorry it took so long, but school, mixed with friend's laziness, does not add up to fast chapters. I've barely started the interviews, but they'll be up in no time. Promise.<p>

Also, feel free to spam S. Snowman 8000's pm. She deserves it for making all of you wait so long!

**(but seriously, school project's have been endless)**

**(and we love EVERY reader and reviewer! wish we would get more reviews though...)**

** -LoneWolf2**

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><p><em><strong>IMPORTANT INFO!<strong>_

****If you would like for your tribute to be asked certain questions, pr give certain answers, PM me! Ideas are always needed, and you can help with your tribute's fight!

Please submit all questions and answers by Saturday. This gives me the whole weekend to work on it.

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><p>-:-<p>

Leaflet sat on a soft round rug, glowering at nothing in particular. The second Chronos had touched that button, a troop of armed super-soldiers had broken down the door. She hadn't noticed them until they had broken up the fight. Judging by his look of surprise as he was plucked off the ground, her opponent hadn't either.

At first, she had felt a bit grateful. Despite being much smarter, she lacked the very strength she needed to put up a decent fight. Exultant didn't have such a problem. If that alone hadn't been bad enough, he had possessed all of the other advantages as well. Such as surprise, the better fighting position, and size (if only by a little). But what must have helped the most was his weight. He was one of those people who naturally looked healthily slim, but was quite heavy once you managed to trick him into standing on a scale. Leaflet concluded that even if he hadn't pinned her to the marble floor, he could have just body slammed her into a wall.

Once they had painlessly rendered Exultant unconscious, the young girl had been very close to thanking the super-soldiers. They had better things to do than watch over a couple of scuffling eight-year olds. However, her gratitude was swiftly killed when they wouldn't let her kick him.

The child huffed and crossed her arms. Of course, she had still tried to hit the boy anyway, but had only managed to land herself a one-way ticket back to her room. With her luck, Snow was most likely smirking in his office, silently chiding her for her bad behavior. She could almost hear his sickly smooth voice.

_What would your mother think_, he would tease and taunt. _What would Ricky say?_

Leaflet clenched her teeth. Even when she blessed with the distance between them, she would give anything to close the gap with her fist.

She turned toward the TV fixed into the wall. It was one of ridiculous size and quality, a sparkling flat screen. Images of tributes flashed across its spotless surface, smiling and waving, but keeping a good distance between one another. Every now and then it would portray a large, clear shot of a face, and the child, feeling rather daring, would furiously focus on their eyes. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. She tried again. And again. And again.

"Ugh!" Her fist slammed down on the carpet. Why couldn't she have her way just this once?

Frustrated, angry, and exasperated all at once, Leaflet collapsed onto a well-positioned pillow.

She hated her limits. They ranked three on her List.

-:-

Just on the outside of the Gates of the Capitol, Carnation Bones, the woman in charge of readying the chariots and horses, was in distress. Or maybe distress wasn't the right word. To get an accurate idea of what was going on, picture a woman with natural orange hair in a waist-length braid. Imagine her as tall and pretty, but in a way that you just couldn't get from artificial means.

Now visualize her clinging to a chandelier. Yelling about how they were all going to die.

"And it's all my fault," she cried out. "I'm a terrible person!" Below the grief-stricken woman, her underlings were face-palming. You'd think that they should be in a similar condition, but in reality the blame would cross onto the guards who monitored the tributes.

In the Capitol, it was an important, unspoken rule that any form of food was not allowed in the crowds during the opening ceremonies. This was mainly to prevent an incident like "District 6's Parade of Terror" from inflicting harm on the Capitol people. Contrary to popular belief, the horses were, in reality, muttations designed for intelligence. Maps of the city had been imprinted into their brains as well as a combat mode to fend off enemies and subdue escaping tributes. They worked flawlessly . . . as long as food kept its distance.

Knowing all of this, the guards would be fully responsible for the mess. While it was true that Crio Lit was the one to slip the fruit into the chariot, the knowledge regarding the horses was kept strictly from the public and Districts. Besides, there was no point in punishing her, especially if she was headed for the arena. However, all of this did little to ease Carnation.

"I failed," She sobbed. "I failed to please the people of the Capitol!" She briefly stopped when she heard a loud crack. On the ceiling. Easily putting two and two together, her eyes widened. She was going to come down right now, just like her team wanted her to. And it didn't matter whether she liked it or not. "AHHHHHHHH!"

_CRASH!_

While most of Carnation's team scrambled to help their leader, a few others hadn't bothered themselves with the situation, instead, deciding it was more productive to glue their eyes to a large screen.

"What are they doing . . . ?" One mumbled, squinting his eyes. Another furrowed his brow.

"I think they're . . . chanting?" His scary-looking buddy gave him a look that said, Are you serious? His hands flew up in defense. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I said I think their chanting. I didn't say they were!"

He rolled his eyes. "Can you turn up the volume?"

"Sure thing. Can you say please?"

"Just turn it up." The man turned up the volume.

_"We want chariots! We want chariots!"_

Both men stared at the screen. One let out a low whistle. "Wow. And I thought my ex-wife was crazy."

-:-

Outside, the Capitol people's cheers were still strong. It seemed that Chestnut had not left his mark on them. Literally. Not one of them seemed to have even a hint of a cut or bruise. It was almost as if . . . as if the mauled citizens had been replaced by a newer, cheery bunch.

A strange thought, but Exultant stood by it.

Currently, the small boy was watching the crowd from his tall roof top only a block away from the Gate. He gazed at the two glistening doors, comparing it to a present. Like a gift, it would be opened to reveal something spectacular and eye-catching. Always something you would want, never hate . . . except for rogue horses.

Exultant let out a shudder. That thing pretty much ruined his day. Or at least, part of it . . . He was abruptly snapped out of his thoughts when the next chariot pulled through the Gate. He instantly categorized it into the "wicked" section. It must have weighed a ton, built thick with metal using the basic chariot design. Its dense walls were the annual dark green with a metallic twist, with silver plating its top and bottom. Black leather had been fastened on the chariot's sides, displaying a large collection of axes in its clutches. They fanned out like silver peacock feathers, glistening enticingly in the sun. As a finishing touch, two more had been added in the front to make a cross.

Needless to say, it drove the public crazy as its prayers were answered. But sadly, the tributes weren't feeling too mutual and looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there. One of them, a muscular eighteen- year old named Andrew Bokins, had refused to play their games and had adopted an unreadable expression. He wore simple clothes like a pine green muscle shirt, some black pants, and a pair of boots. Two large, dull axes had been strapped to his back, but they didn't seem to bother him. In fact, it seemed as if he had forgotten their existence.

The other tribute was slightly better. Her name was Lashive Robinson and she looked bored out of her mind. Her now feathery hair was mainly brown with blonde streaks, loosely braided to maintain a casual look. Against her wishes, makeup had been applied over her pale nose to hide her freckles. To her, it felt weird and wrong, like her sleeveless china gown. For the entire ride, she kept a hand on her hip and her elbow on the edge of the chariot, looking out to the crowd with a dull gaze and an occasional twitch. Every now and then she would give out a forced smile and maybe a little wave, but then her hazel eyes would quickly dart to Andrew's scarred skin.

Fortunately, the next tributes had made some effort to look lively. They were riding in a District 8's much safer, but equally good chariot. It was small and regal looking, with its low walls made of swirly dark wood. Inside, however, was finely cushioned with royal purple. Two velvet pillows lay symmetrically on both sides, both covered with white designs of various clothing articles. At the very edge, silver structures the size of a grown man pierced from the soft layers, like sewing needles in a pin cushion.

Sitting on the right was Jammier Hamilton, a quiet boy with tan skin. His dirty blonde hair was messily cute, while his blue eyes were intelligent and calm. His costume consisted of skinny jeans and an oddly attractive shirt made of a variety of different fabrics. He offered small, sweet smiles to everyone, gaining a steady amount of fan girls in the process. He even smiled at his fellow tribute out of courtesy, but was stubbornly ignored. Feeling slightly offended, he regained his focus on the adoring crowd.

Opposite to him sat Sutton Marie Cardeano, a fifteen year old girl with a light shade of red hair, some freckles, and a fascinating pair of eyes; one blue, one green. A golden dress adorned her willowy figure, with shimmering blue threads to match. She looked like an angel, with her hair crowned on top of her head like that. She seemed embarrassed at being caught in such a beautiful state but with a hint of kindness that you could find in her one-dimpled smile.

They were pricelessly charming.

A few minutes later, a District 9's chariot had passed through the gates just waiting to be lavished in glorious admiration. Its possessed a unique shape, resembling the outline of ball being partially covered by a rectangular surface. Blending colors of orange, pink, and purple covered every square inch of the wood, beautifully painted like a real sunset. Near the bottom was a sea of white wheat, which glowed a soft gold. The wheels were a clear crimson, dotted with large diamonds. Those same gems covered the flat surface of the chariot's top, sparkling brightly in the sun. It was these gorgeous, expensive, precious gems that not only cost the builder a fortune, but also annoyed Ari Catflex to no end. And he was already having a hard time. Smiling to a bunch of random people? No way. Smiling to a bunch of Capitol people? Never. Especially when they were betting on how long he'd last in the arena. But while flipping them off sounded very appealing, having sponsors sounded even better. Winning did too.

So he smiled. Or at least, he tried. Those diamonds were not making it easy. They kept reflecting the rays of the sun into his eyes, painfully blinding him almost constantly, causing his –already forced- smile to tighten in irritation. Hopefully the Capitol people would overlook it. Smiles just seemed like an indication of happiness to them, fake or not. And God knows how much they loved happiness. Revealing that he was quite the opposite would ruin everything, particularly his strategy for the interviews. He'd admit, it wasn't the most ideal strategy for him, but it was much better than being himself. He doubted anyone as rebellious as him would receive support from people like them. But if he planned on staying alive for at least a little while, he'd need their help, no matter how repulsive it sounded.

So he continued to smile. He continued to wave. And he continued to darkly curse his predicament. His only small comfort was his costume, which was thankfully dark. He had been fitted in a pair of shiny boots, greyish-brown pants, and a black collared shirt. Two twirling midnight blue streaks covered both sides, a lone white wheat icon on each of the front lines.

Personally, Ari would have preferred duller foot wear and no symbol, but the people around him seemed to like it. He twitched. His clothes must have vaguely resembled their fashion sense, if ever so slightly.

His forced smile turned somewhat into a smirk when he realized they were shooting odd looks at his dark red hair. Since it was long, he had requested having it done up in his usual loose ponytail with his mother's hair band, his token. Unfortunately, the last part had been denied, and he had been given a golden one instead.

Ari's milky blue eyes glanced at the other occupant of the chariot, Melody Parker. Her costume, which was also dark, was made up of an exquisite coal black dress. It was ankle length with a fitted top, its skirt flaring out. A chilling shade of blue ribbon was tied around her waist, the same white icon imprinted in its middle. It was a pretty dress, and it certainly went well with her strawberry blonde hair. The crowd seemed to agree, keeping their eyes trained on her, leaving him with the occasional glance.

Ari inwardly sighed. Hopefully, he'd earn the same treatment in a few days' time. But even if he didn't, he doubted she'd get survive the arena. She was of average build, while he was lithe and nimble. She could barely do a cartwheel, while he was flexible. Not to mention he had some muscle. Gifts could only get one so far.

Ari's smile weakened ever so slightly. He wondered how far he'd get.

Ari and Melody rode off into the City Circle and quickly swapped the spotlight with District 10, whose wooden chariot greatly resembled a classic image of a barn, only raven black and white. Standing inside the spacious ride were Mei Flower and Hunter Neverlost, both smiling as lovely as they could.

Mei Flower was a beautiful girl of Chinese descent, currently at the young age of fourteen. She was tall and athletic, with clear brown eyes and ebony hair that was held back in a golden bun. She was attired in a buttercup yellow spaghetti-strapped dress. Its top was embroidered with flowers of copper, silver, and white, while its long skirt was layered in thin, see-through ruffles. To signify her District, white and black jewelry hung from her neck.

The boy next to her, Hunter Neverlost, was a tall with hypnotizing silver eyes and long, shaggy hair between the colors of black and brown. His face was very masculine –particularly his cheekbones– but looked soft and gentle somehow. On his skinny frame was a white T-shirt with black spots and a pair of dark jeans. His skin had been painted to mimic his shirt, making him appear cow like in a manly way. If that was possible.

But despite their varying differences they did have one thing in common: they hated limelight of this situation. Badly. Which was ironic because the crowd seemed to love them especially. They were quite sad to see them go. Exultant, who had been unusually quiet on his roof top the entire time, shared their feelings, but mainly because of his love for meat.

The little boy sighed, longing for the feel of paper and pen. Writing was what he did best next to eating. It was what forced Leaflet to hang out with him, as she had once put it, and he liked it. He really did.

His shoulders slumped. "Maybe I shouldn't have called her Lee."

-:-

Miles away, Leaflet sneezed. "I always knew I was part Japanese," she muttered darkly as she grabbed a couple of tissues. She waved a small fist in the air. "Take that, Uncle Dushe!"

-:-

Exultant turned his head toward the Gates just in time to see District 11's chariot come out, carried by two pure white horses. It was green with soft, real moss growing on the edges. Dark vines embraced its square structure, bearing fruits of all kinds and colors. On its wooden front was the District's official seal, painted in gold.

The boy, Lance Arrow, was the taller of the two. He was skinny and lean, with caramel skin and dark brown hair. He was dressed in all black, with the exception of the thin, light vines that curled around his arms and shoulders. His hair had been straightened and weaved with leaves. His dark brown eyes, covered in a set of piercing icy blue contacts, were what stood out the most about him, much to his distaste. His smiles were bitter.

Riding next to him was his girlfriend, Kiy Everbloom. She was shorter than him, lithe, and had light skin. Her hair was the color of darkness with streaks of green, cut slanting from her shoulders with her bangs in a similar fashion. She donned a short, similarly-colored, V-neck dress with a pair of matching straw shoes. Thin plants emerged from the footwear, climbing up her legs. The same vegetation was stenciled onto her arms with flawless skill, and even intertwined with her long graceful hair. Her skin shimmered as the light hit it, her tinted lips and forest eye accents bringing out her brilliant green irises.

She looked like a Mother Nature of sorts, only more beautiful and graceful.

The two teens held each other as they rode through the crowds, waving and blowing the occasional kiss. Every once in a while, Kiy would lean her head in the crook of Lance's neck to make sure he was still real, and he would blush a peach pink. Some looks of envy were shot in the process.

After they passed, the majority of the people braced themselves for what would come next. About a third of them left, deeming it wasteful to cheer on a couple of kids that never made it to the final six. Others had gone for snacks. But those who stayed still held onto the slim, itty-bitty chance that District 12 might have a decent chariot that year. Yes, for as long as people could remember, there had been nothing but coal miner outfits. A fashion crime, as many put it. A disgrace to the opening ceremonies. But anyone who took a good look at the Districts before them could tell this wasn't the usual deal; it was so much more. This year had been just bursting with creativity. This wave of inspiration couldn't have just completely avoided one little District, right?

When the Gate opened for the final time, Exultant covered his face. "I can't look," he grimaced. He stood by his proclamation for about two seconds before his curiosity got the better of him.

District 12's chariot was shaped and colored like a burning coal, with red wheels the emitted virtual fire. Two red velvet thrones had been positioned inside, giving the air a feel of royalty. This atmosphere went best with Autumn Flyrose, a short girl with long black locks that framed her olive face. Her strapless silk dress easily surpassed the usual coal miner guise; it was knee-length and faded from a ruby red to fiery orange, with gems of similar colors decorating the surface. She wore sandals of twine on her feet, which looked as stylish as they were uncomfortable. Her pretty face frowned at her admirers who marveled at her once sunken celestial silver eyes.

The fellow next to her was her polar opposite. With friendly smiles and happy gestures, Aubrey Brown was gaining favor. He was over six feet tall and sturdily built with a handsome face. His skin was very pale, the perfect complexion for his two soft eye colors: brown and blue. His coal miner suit was designed to show off his body and had been made of white cloth. Cherry flames from his costume licked and curled around his person, painted so well that they could have been mistaken for real. Clutched in his right hand was a polished bronze pick axe.

There was something about Aubrey that drew people to him like honey to a bee. The way he wore his expression, his carefree demeanor, even his steady waves –they all seemed as if they had been carefully woven by a sly character, a person who always seemed to have a trick up his sleeve to go behind enemy lines and capture the king. But no matter how hard they tried to pierce the veil hiding away an entity so foreign, yet so close, the boy remained a walking enigma.

President Snow couldn't wait to see him in the arena.

-:-

"Well, the chapter sucked," said S. Snowman 8000 bluntly.

"I thought it was really good," LoneWolfe2 commented. Currently, both girls were lying down on a hill, watching the clouds.

"It stunk." S. S. 8000 deadpanned.

"It took too long to finish," she retorted.

"Oh come on! Will you stop bringing that up?"

LW2 smirked. "At least I'm not the only one that thinks so."

S. S. 8000 rolled to her side, scowling. "Stupid reviewer," she muttered.

LW2 looked as if she had insulted the candy-eating monster, Om Nom, from Cut the Rope. "_What did you say?_" (Just saying, we both love EVERY reviewer!)

S. S. 8000 materialized a laptop out of nowhere. She did a bit of fancy clicking and typing before she pulled up Broken Lies' review page. She pointed to the last few reviews and read them aloud:

**_ .love247_**

_update soon! It's been four months!_

**_ConcreteAngelRoxherHalo_**

_GRR! LoneWolf, you need to update more often!"_

S. S. 8000 didn't look impressed. "After two long periods of no updates, they were both unsatisfied. Even though they both added up to almost twenty pages of hard, hair-ripping work, they were still weren't happy with me."

LW2 glared at her."Don't you mean me?"

S. S. 8000 shrugged. "It's not my fault no bothers to read the Author's Note. Besides, the point is that we updated. While a bunch of writers out there failed to keep going with their fan fictions, we never gave up on this one. Not once. And it makes me mad when people just go, 'Update!' when the author has a life outside of the internet, that they might have some problems updating their stories. Like their computer crashing or a loved one death or something. I've read a few of Author's Notes saying something like that." The girl examined a hot dog-shaped cloud.

"It's depressing," LW2 agreed, "when you get another chapter up after a lot of difficulty and the first reviewer starts scolding you like you did something wrong."

"Exactly. No one ever says something positive, like, 'Thank God you're still alive!' And the chapter? No one ever mentions it. Ever."

LW2 let out a sigh. "Can we move to a lighter topic? You're bringing me down."

S. S. 8000 gave a small shrug in reply. For a few seconds, total silence reigned. Then S. S. 8000's eyes lit up evilly. "So let's say there's atomic bomb that randomly falls from the sky and you have only enough time to drag one more person into the bomb shelter. Who's it gonna be –me or the Disney-lover?"

LW2 sweat dropped, unimpressed. "Didn't we already have this conversation?"

** REVIEW OR ELSE!**


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